


Created In You

by rumpelstiltskinrocks, Taisch



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Enchanted Forest (Once Upon a Time), Arranged Marriage, F/M, Gaston is awful, Gen, Moe is awful, True Love Saplings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 109,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24613864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpelstiltskinrocks/pseuds/rumpelstiltskinrocks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taisch/pseuds/Taisch
Summary: Foreknowledge is a curse. Plagued by visions of his son's death, Rumplestiltskin learns that only one person can help him — a woman who hasn't even been born yet. Desperate, he makes a deal he never thought he'd make, becoming the kind of monster he never wanted to be.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 128
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Just putting my thoughts out their](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174334) by [rumpelstiltskinrocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpelstiltskinrocks/pseuds/rumpelstiltskinrocks). 



> Written by Taisch, based on an AU and plot by rumpelstiltskinrocks.
> 
> So, remember those true love saplings from season 6a? No? Neither did the writers. But rumpelstiltskinrocks remembered, and had an idea for a whole damn forest of those trees, all grown up! We thought it would be fun if I wrote it up in an actual story based on their world-building notes.
> 
> Explanation of the warning tags:
> 
>   * Rape/noncon: marriage arranged under duress, but also Gaston is a rapey asshole in this AU 
>   * Underage: nothing physical happens, but due to the premise (arranged marriage with an unborn child), I can't completely avoid the suggestion of this. It is a problematic situation, and I don't recommend it for anyone IRL! 
> 

> 
> Rumpelstiltskinrocks is compiling a character list [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174334/chapters/59021893)
> 
> Some snippets of dialogue quoted from canon. You know the drill: I don't own OUAT or its characters.

* * *

_I'm sorry, my dear Rumple. I'm not going with you._

The words echoed in his ears long after Cora had gone. She had ripped out her own heart rather than allow herself to love him, but the pain was his to endure. She felt nothing, could no longer feel anything. 

Rumplestiltskin bit back a wordless scream of anguish. 

_She was never going to go with you, you fool,_ sneered the dark voices that never left him. _What do you have to offer anyone?_

Nothing but darkness and isolation. 

He wrapped himself in that darkness and retreated in an eyeblink to his castle, to the great hall filled with the trophies of his power — none of them worth a damn except one. 

"Oh, Bae. I betrayed you again." Rumplestiltskin picked up the humble wooden staff leaning in the corner, tracing the markings by which he had once tracked his son's growth. 

_I will do nothing else. I will love nothing else._

"Another promise broken," he whispered. And for what? Nothing. This great hall with all its baubles — it might as well be empty. Because Bae wasn't there. "I thought... I thought we could be a family. That she would help me find you. But Cora, she—" 

He shut his eyes against the memory. How could he have deluded himself again? No woman would ever love him. He was pathetic. He was weak. He shook his head, trying to deny the thought. He had power now, didn't he? Kings and queens came to _him_ for assistance. 

Then he opened his eyes and glimpsed himself in the glass doors of the cabinet in front of him and he saw... 

_You'll always be a coward. A monster._

"No!" The staff smashed into the cabinet, glass breaking in a cacophony almost loud enough to drown out the voices of his self-loathing. "No. I'm still his papa... I will find him." 

_I will find a way._

He had lost everyone he had ever loved, but he _would_ find his son. He had been promised. He had Seen it in the visions he had torn loose from the Seer. 

That was worth a smile against a broken heart, wasn't it? Rumplestiltskin set down the wooden staff and sighed, looking at the spinning wheel sitting humbly in the corner of his great hall. He settled himself on the bench, slowly turning the wheel, summoning the images to his mind. 

_Bae. I will see you again, someday._ After so many centuries of research and scheming, he had his curse and he knew where to find his caster. True, she hadn't been born yet, and her mother had just walked away from him, but all was not lost. Only his own chance at love was lost, but that was unimportant as long as he could find his son. _You're all I have, son. You deserve to be loved. To know that your papa came back for you, that he made a mistake, that he's sorry. You deserve a chance at happiness._

The visions came in fragments, as they always did. He found solace in the fleeting glimpses of his son, all grown up now, in a strange land where machines did more than magic. He couldn't see Baelfire's face; he never could, but he knew in his heart. 

Then the vision changed. As if Cora's rejection had shattered the last bastion of hope in his soul, Rumplestiltskin saw himself kneeling on the forest floor, his son lying before him. His son's hand clasped between his own, the life seeping away into the cold. A young man's hand, though his face remained a blur. A young man, dying with years cut short. 

Sometimes there was snow. Sometimes only bare dirt and damp leaves, but the end was always the same. 

His son died. 

He would find his son only to lose him. _That_ was their future. 

"No!" Rumplestiltskin staggered to his feet, backing away from the wheel with his hands pressed over his eyes, as if he could force the images to change. 

Death. There was only death. And it was his fault. 

"No, no, no, no, no!" The nightmare haunted him, sleeping and waking, no matter how he tried to find an alternative. All his books, all his study of magic, all his centuries of learning— 

Useless. 

Finally, exhausted and out of hope, he rode the wave of his own despair to a nondescript patch of forest, like any other. Unlike any other. 

Rumplestiltskin stared down at the leaf-littered ground, seeing in his mind's eye a bright green swirl of light opening beneath him. A night much like this one. A night unlike this one at all. 

"Rumplestiltskin." 

The voice came from behind him, carrying no threat, but Rumplestiltskin whirled, calling fire to his hand. His lips drew back in a snarl, anger cloaking fear, fear that someone was powerful enough to catch him unawares (distracted though he had been). "Who's there?" 

"Remember us?" A monstrous figure stepped delicately from the deepest shadows under the trees, joined a beat later by another. They loomed over him, dragon-like creatures with long, sinuous necks. He could just make out the shapes of horns curving back from their heads. 

Rumplestiltskin froze. He lowered his hands, the flame still burning in his palm. "Ah. You." 

* * *

_Centuries ago, in the same forest..._

The fairy fluttered above him, always above him, face full of sanctimonious condescension. "You drove him away."

Rumplestiltskin had no words left, only rage and determination. This meddling blue firefly thought she could stop him? He gritted his teeth and swung his dagger out in a wide slash. 

She dodged. She could dodge his dagger, and she could dodge her culpability, but not forever. Her sins would catch up with her, someday. 

Not someday. Today! 

Vast black wings swept out from the shadows, trapping the fairy in a rush of wind. Long claws closed around her like the bars of a cage. Two pairs of glowing eyes fixed on her. 

Rumplestiltskin stumbled backwards, nearly falling in his shock. He could feel the magic roaring from the creatures, strange and more powerful than anything he had ever encountered. 

"How dare you?" The fairy's voice trembled, but her eyes met those of her captors in recognition. "Your queen has an agreement with the Order..." 

"Which you have overstepped, Reul Ghorm," said one of the creatures. 

"I have not!" 

"One could cite your remarkably ill-timed revelations of prophecy," said the other. 

"I was cleared of any wrong-doing," retorted the fairy. 

"Which is not the same as 'innocence'," remarked the first creature. 

Rumplestiltskin slipped as unobtrusively as he could behind a tree, watching everything through a haze of terror. What were these things that claimed such authority and who was their _queen?_ He had to know. Ignorance was more of a risk than staying to find out. 

"So, the past is the past," said the second creature. "But now, oh, well, we hear of your so-careless distribution of magic beans." 

"Not careless. We could have been rid of a great evil!" 

"'We'?" The first creature chuckled. "Oh no, no, no. You acted towards your own ends, my dear. The Queen will have words with you." 

"Wait—" The Blue Fairy's plea ended in a squeak, lost in the whoosh of air as the shadowed wings flapped once more and her captor vanished, taking her into darkness. 

_The void between the worlds,_ Rumplestiltskin realized, astonished. This could mean— 

"Wait!" Rumplestiltskin scrambled out from behind the tree, an outstretched hand reaching out in desperate hope before the second of the creatures could vanish. "Wait..." 

The creature hesitated. Eyes turned towards him, flickering orange like candle-flames. "Yes?" 

"My son," gasped Rumplestiltskin. "You can travel between realms. My son... you can take me to him. _Please._ " 

"All magic comes with a price," said the creature. "You know this." 

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Anything. Whatever it takes." 

The creature regarded him with something like pity. Finally, it sighed and said softly, "Alas, no, it is not to be. You cannot pay that price." 

"What price? What do you want?" Rumplestiltskin felt his heart crumbling, but refused to let go of hope. 

"As I have said. You cannot pay that price..." 

In the silence that followed the creature's words, Rumplestiltskin thought he could hear an unspoken 'yet'. 

_Grasping at straws won't save you from your failures, fool. That creature is merely toying with you. Destroy it!_

Rumplestiltskin struggled with a flare of anger, anger at the fairies, anger at these strangers who refused to help him, anger at himself for his own weakness. _Bae. I will find you._ He couldn't afford to lose his temper, not now, not when he had a chance— 

But the creature was already turning to leave. 

"Wait! Will I see you again?" 

"Perhaps later," it said, then vanished in a whisper of darkness. 

* * *

"So." Rumplestiltskin stared at the creatures in recognition, releasing his fireball back into the void. "I take it this is 'later'." 

"Indeed. There is a time for everything, and now it is time for us to speak." The creature's eyes gleamed like brass, its words as measured as clockwork, its motions elegant and precise. 

"Let me guess. You want something from me." Rumplestiltskin tilted his head to the side and twirled his hands in his signature flourish, hiding his unease and anger. He couldn't afford to squander this chance at gaining powerful assistance, not if he wanted to save Baelfire. 

In the centuries since his first encounter, Rumplestiltskin had learned a little more about the elusive creatures. They called themselves Timers and originated from another realm, said to lie outside time and space. They visited this realm to harvest the mystical saplings born of True Love — a magic powerful enough to transcend realms and break any curse. 

Rumplestiltskin's own efforts to bottle that magic in a potion were only crude approximations at what Timers were rumored to do naturally. What could they possibly want him for that they couldn't do themselves? That he couldn't give the first time they had met? 

The second creature, the one with eyes like candle flames, chuckled. "It is better said, all of us want something, each from the other, no? For example, you believe we can help you..." 

"You can," breathed Rumplestiltskin. "With your powers, you can see what I cannot. A way to—" 

"To save your son," finished the second creature. 

"Yes. Can it be done?" 

"But of course. Yet what you must understand, my friend, that it is not so simple a matter as saving his life once, twice, only to lose him again. When we speak of 'saving', we speak of something more." 

"More? More in what way?" 

"More than we can say," said the first creature. "That's why our queen has invited you to court. She will answer you there, and explain what she requires of you." 

"The price of your assistance." It was what he had expected. "A royal invitation. How flattering! But the last person I saw you take to her never returned. Forgive me for being less than trusting." 

"My dear fellow, you are our guest, not our prisoner." The creature drew itself up in mock offense. "But if it will reassure you, we two promise your safety, to and from the Wood Beyond and in the queen's court." 

Rumplestiltskin eyed them. "Reassure me? I don't even know your names. Promises from strangers carry little weight." Centuries as a Dark One had taught him the power in a name, and he needed any edge he could find in case these creatures turned against him. 

The second creature gave a little sigh and shake of its head. "We have none, not in your tongue." 

"Come on, give it a whirl," Rumplestiltskin coaxed mockingly. "You know my name — yours can hardly be worse!" 

"As you please." The creature with the eyes of candle flame thought for a moment, then said, "I am known among my people as 'a light of our own making'. Call me 'Lumiere' if you must call me something." 

"Lumiere. Lovely to meet you." Rumplestiltskin turned to the other. "And you?" 

"Cogsworth." 

Lumiere rolled his eyes. "A grand name for a fussy little counter of minutes, no? Ah, it is no matter to me what you wish to be called." 

Cogsworth's tail lashed out, in impatience or irritation, Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure. "Well, shall we be off?" 

Rumplestiltskin nodded, swallowing his reservations. He had to take the chance. His son needed him. 

The Timer spread his wings, a breath of darkness sweeping up a swirl of rustling leaves along with Rumplestiltskin, dropping all of them out of one world and into another. Rumplestiltskin blinked against the sudden light, having gone from night to... day? He stood surrounded by trees vaster than the ones he had left and when he peered upward through the canopy, specks of dazzling light struck his eyes, but no sun was visible. Trees stretched out in every direction as far as he could see. They emanated magic of a purity rarely found in the Enchanted Forest. 

Could it be? These were all the saplings of True Love, now grown to giants? He couldn't help giving voice to his amazement. "So many of them..." 

"This is Nevethe, the Wood Beyond," said Cogsworth. 

"Beyond what, exactly?" Rumplestiltskin had always wondered about that. 

"Beyond time, beyond love, beyond everything," answered Cogsworth. 

"Beyond your expectations!" put in Lumiere with a sly smile, the sharp curve of his teeth gleaming as they caught a stray beam of light from the blazing sky. "You think the saplings that grow in your mortal earth are all? No! It is here that is their true home. Come, come, the Queen awaits!" 

Cogsworth shot Lumiere a look. "That is not precisely true. Didn't I just say this realm was beyond time?" 

"No need to be so literal, my friend," Lumiere said airily. 

Rumplestiltskin let his two squabbling guides lead him deeper (though he knew the word had no real meaning when he had no clear idea where he was) into the forest. As he learned to look through the fog of magic that pervaded the air, he found the individual trees reminiscent of the oaks, beeches, maples, and firs of his homeland, as well as others that were strange to him. 

He could hear the rustle of animals moving on the forest floor, and hear the sound of birds and insects, but he saw only fleeting shadows, flickers of motion in the corner of his eyes. Sometimes he thought they were Timers like his companions, sometimes they seemed to be deer or other wildlife, and sometimes they seemed human. 

The tree trunks grew sparser as they proceeded, yet the leaves overhead remained as thick as ever. Finally he saw why: a tree of almost inconceivable girth towered ahead, its roots as massive as mountain ridges, its branches spreading wide enough to shade a dozen villages under the leaves. The top of the tree was barely visible from the ground, reaching up to catch the clouds. 

"The eldest," said Lumiere with soft reverence. "Born in the morning of the world from the first true love." 

"The union of the light and the dark," Cogsworth continued, "that birthed all that is out of all that is not." 

"And firstborn was our Queen, summoned from the shadows to the Wood Beyond," said Lumiere in turn. "The Wood is called Nevethe, and so is she, for they are of one spirit." 

As they made their way closer, Rumplestiltskin saw another of the apparitions, more substantial than the others, standing on top of a giant gray boulder. It was as tall as a house, surrounded by a cluster of smaller boulders. A line of slate slabs marked the path to the boulder, and a stairway carved into the rock led to the top. The apparition looked human, richly clad as befit a noble or even a king. He knew the type well enough, and he instantly recognized the expression on his face: the outraged astonishment of a man who never heard the word "no" being denied something he wanted. 

_Well, well. Maybe this queen of theirs is someone I can do business with,_ thought Rumplestiltskin, having been the cause of the same expression on many a royal in his own time.

Then the apparition's face changed to one of sheer terror. The next moment he vanished in a swirl of air and magic. 

And that, too, was familiar enough. The usual game, thought Rumplestiltskin as he started climbing the stairs. _Just keep your head. Don't forget why you're here. Bae's future..._

Then he reached the flat top of the boulder, and all his intentions scattered to the winds. Eyes like dusk-red moons rose high above him, their focus piercing Rumplestiltskin with the sharpness of their attention. Then the rest of her, of the Queen of Nevethe, shimmered into view, a shape so large and elusive that he hadn't even seen her until now. He hadn't felt the weight of any magical presence beyond Cogsworth, Lumiere, and the background of the Wood itself, yet between one breath and the next, the aura of her power washed over him, a wave capable of crushing him with barely a thought. 

_Eldest._ Rumplestiltskin was old, but his centuries were nothing to this creature. He dropped to his knees, his gaze falling as he humbled himself, his hands trembling as he laid his palms on the ground in supplication. _No wonder the ancients worshipped her as the Goddess of the Grove._

"Rumplestiltskin." Her voice was a dry rumble with all the gentleness of a friendly earthquake. 

_As well try to negotiate with a mountain,_ was Rumplestiltskin's panicked thought. He managed to croak out a single word, "Please..." 

Then came a flurry of wings as Cogsworth and Lumiere flew up to the top of the boulder, landing one on either side of him. 

"Buck up, old chap," muttered Cogsworth. "She won't bite your head off." 

_Really?_ Rumplestiltskin swallowed, thinking he wouldn't be able to stop those massive jaws from closing on him. He barely restrained himself from teleporting away in terror. _Coward._

"Ah, one grows accustomed, such is the way of it," put in Lumiere. "You will see how it is, in time." 

"Peace," said the Queen. The eyes blinked, just long enough for Rumplestiltskin to collect his scattered thoughts. "Stand up, little man. I do not require your obeisance." 

Rumplestiltskin wrenched himself upright, trying not to wobble. Under that luminous gaze, he felt as vulnerable as the crippled spinner he had once been. He took a breath, steadying his voice. "But you require something, or why else invite me to the Wood Beyond, your majesty?"

"Your allegiance to Nevethe." 

"Allegiance to your kingdom? Or to you?" Rumplestiltskin fought down an instinctive revulsion. _Back to kissing boots?_ sneered the voice of the darkness. _Fealty,_ Hordor had said. And here he was again, desperate, hoping for mercy from the powerful. 

_Burn them all!_ hissed the darkness, heedless of consequences. 

"Allegiance to the magic of True Love," said the Queen. "To the Wood that preserves it. To the idea that love is worth saving. You must believe that, or why else would you go to such lengths for your son?" 

Rumplestiltskin's jaw tightened. She had him, and she knew it. 

The Queen sighed. "I'm not asking you to kiss my boots." At Rumplestiltskin's startled hiss, she softened her aura in an approximation of an amused smile. "Oh, I have known Rumplestiltskins a-plenty, across the worlds and timelines. I know who you were before you became the Dark One." 

"Then why ask for me?" Rumplestiltskin managed to ask. He knew there were other worlds that mirrored his own, where other versions of the same souls might exist, but for him, it had merely been a theoretical knowledge. 

"A thousand small things, that together mean you are the one we need. Take comfort that in serving the Wood, you serve the ones you love." 

"There is only my son," grated Rumplestiltskin. 

"Ah," said the Queen. "I spoke out of turn. Yet in the future, you may have more. Perhaps a grandchild?" 

Rumplestiltskin shut his eyes, gathering his resolve. _For Bae._ "My son will live? A full life, and death in an old age naturally reached? You will swear to it?" 

"I swear to use all the power at my disposal to ensure it," promised the Queen. 

"No loopholes. What do you mean by 'at your disposal'?" asked Rumplestiltskin, his eyes still closed in order to filter out distractions and focus on hearing the truth. 

"I am bound to Nevethe. My influence outside its borders is wrought through my agents, such as these two." 

"An agent such as you wish me to become?" 

"Just so," put in Lumiere. "Help us, and you help yourself." 

Rumplestiltskin sighed, opening his eyes at last. He had little choice. He could See no way to a happy ending for Bae, but at least here in Nevethe, the Queen was well-nigh godlike in her power and Sight. "Very well. I swear allegiance to Nevethe, on my name and honor, such as it is." 

"Then accept this token of your oath," said the Queen. She tilted her head, focusing her gaze on Cogsworth. "If you would...?" 

"Of course." Cogsworth sat up on his haunches, lifting up a foreleg to catch the clear white crystal that materialized between his talons, handling it with his customary preciseness. 

"What... what is that?" Rumplestiltskin felt no magic from it, but it was surely no mundane rock. 

"You know of amber, the blood of the tree, yes?" said Lumiere. "This is the crystalized tear, a rare gem granted by the Wood to those it favors."

"A catalyst," said the Queen. "To bind you to Nevethe, and to allow you to become that which you must be." 

"Which is what, exactly?" 

"More than you are now. Cogsworth. What are you waiting for?" 

"Yes, my queen." Cogsworth shifted into motion, shooting Rumplestiltskin an apologetic glance. "Please hold still." He thrust his foreleg forward into Rumplestiltskin's chest, as if about to rip out his heart, but when he withdrew his talons, they were empty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, any thoughts? Are we insane? Please leave a comment and let us know! XD


	2. Chapter 2

He was falling. Inside and out, everything felt wrong. Unbalanced. His mouth opened but no sound came out. 

Voiceless, weightless, sightless: he was alone in a darkness more absolute than anywhere in the mortal realms. It was a terrifying blackness unrelieved by any of the emanations Rumplestiltskin had learned to see after he had become the Dark One. There was nothing. Only— 

—himself. He thrashed frantically, but his own body had become foreign to him, with too many limbs, all shaped wrong. 

He reached for his magic, but it was as if it didn't exist. Panicking, he turned to the darkness inside him, seeking answers to the darkness around him, but the voices in his head had disintegrated into static. Had he fallen into a portal? Was this a land without magic? Why did he feel so strange, so twisted out of shape? 

Endlessly falling. 

How long had he been here? He hadn't hit the ground yet. Was there a ground at all? Oh gods. Had he condemned Bae to this endless void? 

_No, no, no._ There was more. Rumplestiltskin had Seen it. Glimpses of another world beyond the portal. Wherever he was, it wasn't that. He tried to hold onto the vision, but it faded from his mind's eye, only to be replaced by his own memories. 

_Endlessly falling._ The nightmare of his childhood. ( _Don't let me fall!_ screamed at a shadow stealing him from his father. _Papa, don't let me go!_ ) 

Always falling. How many times on his way back from the battle lines? Pushed, kicked, scorned and hated — or collapsing in pain and exhaustion. 

His wife turning her back on him. Better dead than a coward. 

_Coward, coward, coward._ Falling lower and lower in the eyes of the village. In the eyes of strangers. And in his own eyes. 

Falling again, on the deck of a pirate ship. Falling, afraid, useless. 

_Cripple, coward, worthless._

His wife was dead and his son was lost, but he was the Dark One. Powerful enough to find his son, powerful enough to protect him. But he couldn't even hold on to that much... 

_Powerless._ Magic gone, future gone. His fear became overwhelming, suffocating all hope. 

Nothing left except to find one last corner to hide in. So he did. 

* * *

Following the Queen's orders, Lumiere and Cogsworth slipped through the worlds to a decrepit hovel in the woods. The trees were thin and weedy, new growth on what must have been cultivated land less than a century ago. 

Lumiere exchanged a skeptical glance with Cogsworth. "Here?" 

"The Queen knows what she's doing," asserted Cogsworth. "Come along." 

The door was long gone, and as for the roof... Lumiere shook his head. "It's more hole than roof!" 

"Never mind the roof," said Cogsworth. "We have bigger problems." 

A Rumplestiltskin-shaped problem, to be exact. He lay face-down in a wooden frame that was once a bed, in human form. 

"It didn't take?" Lumiere hesitated, letting Cogsworth take the lead in examining the Dark One. "Be careful. His magic—" 

"Isn't functional at the moment," concluded Cogsworth. "He's reverted." He ran a claw along the smooth skin of Rumplestiltskin's cheek in illustration. 

_Reverted._ An innocuous-sounding word to describe it. They managed to wake Rumplestiltskin, only to find him a terrified, cringing madman with one crippled foot and scrambled memories. The crystal was buried deep inside his heart and inaccessible. 

"I'm afraid," he whispered over and over, huddled in the corner as far from the Timers as the hovel allowed. 

"Darkness added to darkness," Cogsworth said later, when Rumplestiltskin was asleep again. "He was overwhelmed." 

"Obviously." Lumiere rolled his eyes. 

"He's retreated into himself, into this distorted shadow of his past." 

"Then we shall have to coax him out." 

"Patience is called for," warned Cogsworth. "Remember what happened with the last one." 

Lumiere shuddered. "Nevethe help us." 

Still, what was time to a Timer? They repaired the hovel. They gathered food and other supplies. They took as long as they needed to gradually befriend Rumplestiltskin and win his trust, building a daily routine where he felt safe enough to be able to respond coherently when spoken to. 

Cogsworth supplied him with a spinning wheel, which seemed to calm him down, but any suggestion of leaving the hovel was met with panic. 

"No, no, I can't do that." 

Too many memories of pain and abuse, of shamefully limping away from thieves and bullies, thought Lumiere. "Very well. If you won't leave, then the world will have to come to you." 

"The world?" Rumplestiltskin's voice trembled, his eyes wide and wary. 

"A friend," said Lumiere in his most soothing voice. Later he said to Cogsworth, "This time the darkness keeps him in fear and not in anger. This situation is one we can salvage." 

"What are you planning?" asked Cogsworth, the faint hint of alarm in his voice bringing a smile to Lumiere's face. 

"He is trapped in a shadow of his own fear, no? When he was helpless. When he couldn't save his son. Just as now." 

"So?" 

"So he found his way out when he met the former Dark One. Magic was the key to that cage. Today is different. Magic failed him. We must offer him a different key!" 

* * *

Rumplestiltskin knew he wasn't himself. He didn't know who he was, but it seemed to him that a man should keep more in his head than the day's labor. Some impressions remained: the two creatures that watched over him grew less startling, less frightening. They were simply there. 

Today the one called Lumiere was due to return with a guest (Rumplestiltskin trembled at the thought) and the one called Cogsworth had set him to work at the cutting board, claiming his talons were unsuited to wielding a knife. The meal they prepared was elaborate beyond the spinner's expectations. Fish from the stream and wild meat from the woods were one thing (he supposed no one would dare accuse the Timers of poaching), but then came the strange spices and cooking methods. 

"He enjoys his food, that one," Cogsworth said of Lumiere's 'friend'. 

The faceless people in Rumplestiltskin's misty memories were lucky to eat at all, and plain food at best. Meat pies were the height of luxury. He imagined a wealthy townsman, or even a noble, and a vague dread seized him. If he kept his head low, if he was lucky, maybe he could escape notice. It was not to be. 

The stranger introduced by Lumiere as "Old Man Hong" confounded all his expectations. He was dressed like a peasant, his clothes old and worn to match the graying hair escaping from under his hat. A wine gourd swung from his walking stick. 

Rumplestiltskin gripped his own stick more tightly as he warily met the sharp eyes that looked him up and down. Asked his name, he stammered out uncertainly, "H-hobblefoot, that's... I think..." 

The old man nodded, his face kind. "And is that dinner I smell? Wonderful!" He glanced at Lumiere. "Very well, I accept the deal." He patted his belly. "As long as the eating is good, the teaching will be just as good!" 

"T-teaching?" 

"I hear you've been plagued by vicious dogs — the two-legged kind. Let me tell you, no student of mine is so easily bullied." He grinned and took a sip from his gourd. "After I teach you, they'll go running and crying for their mamas." 

"Wh-what? Do you mean f-fighting?" Rumplestiltskin felt the blood drain from his face. He had run from every battlefield. Didn't this stranger know that? Everyone knew that. "I...I c-can't." He ducked his head, ashamed. "My... my foot..." 

"Your foot? A foot, a hand, an eye or a tongue — ah, well, there are enough of my people who lack one or more of those. If you need a staff to lean on, there's no shame in that." 

His people? Rumplestiltskin glanced up, wondering. 

"He's the leader of the Beggars Clan," explained Cogsworth. 

"Retired leader," corrected Lumiere. 

"Beggar?" Rumplestiltskin cried out in alarm and stumbled back. Beggars. A beggar had... a trick... he had helped... no... Fleeting images flickered dimly in the fog of his memory. 

Cogsworth spread a wing around him in reassurance. "Peace. Old Man Hong is a good man." 

Rumplestiltskin's terror eased as they all sat down outside to eat. Beggars didn't sit on chairs where Old Man Hong came from — a country where beggars were skilled in combat and sworn to uphold justice and help the poor. It sounded too good to be true, but as the days passed and the old man taught him as promised, Rumplestiltskin began to believe it. 

"The Dog-beating Stick technique is usually reserved for clan leaders," Old Man Hong told him. "But from what your friends have told me, it seems your land is in need of its own Beggars Clan, and you... well, we can always hope!" 

With long practice and months passing in peace, Rumplestiltskin gradually gained more confidence, even if his memory was still lacking. He was able to venture on his own to the nearest village on market day and endure the crowds without panicking, coming home with his purchases intact. 

Then came the day when he froze in the middle of his morning exercises. He saw the wooden staff in his hand as if for the first time. "It's the wrong stick." 

_Where are the notches I carved? Where.... where's my son?_

A wordless cry of anguish tore free from his throat. He dropped to his knees, staff falling from limp fingers. Memories burst free, a torrent flooding over a broken dam. He was Rumplestiltskin. He was the Dark One. And he was sworn to the service of the Wood Beyond. He shuddered, magic rushing out from the dark corners of his soul, flowing through him, transforming him. He dug his claws into the dirt and his tail lashed out in shock. He was dimly aware of the others approaching him. 

"Well, that's different." Was that Old Man Hong? 

Rumplestiltskin struggled to speak. With an effort, he forced his breath to flow into the world again. "Ah..." 

"What happened?" Cogsworth came into focus. 

"I... I remembered." It was the breakthrough they had been waiting for. He knew who he was. He was Rumplestiltskin. He was himself. He was a spinner. He was a disciple of Old Man Hong. He was a dark sorcerer. He was a creature of the shadow world. He was a guardian of Nevethe. He pulled himself back into the imp's form that he had worn for so many centuries. A ring now adorned his hand, set with the crystal that had been bound to his heart. "I remember everything." 

After that, it was a matter of learning what he could from his three companions: martial arts, cooking, and the esoteric magical techniques of Nevethe and the shadow world. Unlike the two Timers, Rumplestiltskin found himself faded into pure darkness when he fully embraced his new form. With practice, he learned that he could manifest shadowy wings or partially fade out of existence. As his control improved, his fear diminished, and he let the eternal night of the shadow world seep into his eyes, allowing him to see in the dark. 

He drove himself forward, as he always had and always would, as long as his son was in danger. Even so, it took years before Cogsworth and Lumiere were satisfied with his progress. 

* * *

"No shadow without light, no light without shadow," Rumplestiltskin murmured. For the creatures of Nevethe (of which he was now one), the mantra opened the way, turning any shadow into a portal.

Cogsworth and Lumiere followed him into the shadow world. This was his final test, to navigate the darkness and find Nevethe. 

Rumplestiltskin took his less-human form as he plunged deeper into the shadow world. This time, he was prepared for the weightless void. He wasn't falling; he was _floating_. Paths in this realm led from soul to soul, shadow to shadow. The red-eyed monsters that anchored the paths recognized him as one of their own and left him alone. The shadows were cast in the mortal realm and any of them could become a window or doorway if he chose. 

By now he was proficient with the technique, but it wouldn't help him find Nevethe. Instead, he focused on the crystal. He could feel it in his heart, a warm presence that glowed through his shadow form with a faint crimson light. He turned slowly in place, finding the direction where the crystal was warmest, where the glow was brightest. 

That path could only be found by those bound to Nevethe. 

At last he emerged from the shadows of the trees and found himself in the Wood Beyond. 

"Well done, old chap!" said Cogsworth. "The Queen will be pleased." 

Rumplestiltskin looked around, half-dazed. How long had it been since he had been here? How long had he been in that other world? Time passed differently in different realms, he knew. Surely it couldn't have been as long as he feared? He whispered half to himself, "It feels like years." 

"It _has_ been years," said Lumiere cheerfully. 

"Fifteen, to be precise," said Cogsworth, who was always precise. 

"Fifteen years?" Rumplestiltskin gasped. "No. It can't be. I had plans... people..." He closed his eyes and groped for the fragments of his vision. "Fifteen years! People will think I'm dead." 

"No, they won't, dearie." A high-pitched giggle pierced the air. 

Rumplestiltskin opened his eyes in shock and saw another Rumplestiltskin swaggering towards them. Gods. Leather and glittery skin and rotting teeth — did he really look like that? He shifted instinctively back into his own Dark One form, matching the other. "Who the hell are _you?_ " 

"Would you believe I'm the Dark One? Everyone else did." 

Rumplestiltkin glared. He could sense the magic oozing off the other 'Rumplestiltskin'. Normally, no one would dare impersonate the Dark One, but if it was known that he was missing... "I don't think so, _dearie_." 

"Some people have no sense of humor." The imposter rolled his eyes, but when Rumplestiltskin continued glaring, added, "Fine, just call me your stunt double." 

"My what?" The crystal had given Rumplestiltskin fluency in the Timer language, but the term was new to him. "You mean 'imposter'? 'Usurper'? 'Fraud'?" 

"Those all sound so hostile! No, no, I was merely keeping your huddled masses soothed in your absence." The imposter dropped the illusion, morphing into a lavender blue Timer slightly bulkier than Lumiere or Cogsworth. And female. Her accent shifted as she returned to her natural voice. "Periwinkle, at your service." 

Rumplestiltskin frowned. Had this been part of his deal with Nevethe? It came with too many unspoken subclauses and implied amendments for his taste. 

"All right, all right, you've had your fun," snapped Cogsworth, tail twitching in annoyance. "We need to go to the Hearing Valley." 

That was the name of the area that served as the Queen's court and audience chamber, as Rumplestiltskin had learned since his first visit. He wanted to question Periwinkle further, but perhaps it would be better to see what the Queen had to say, first. 

The Queen was no smaller and no less powerful than before, but now that he was bonded to the Wood, Rumplestiltskin was able to stand in front of her without visibly shaking or being distracted by his own fear. He bowed formally. "Your majesty." 

"Rumplestiltskin. I am glad to find you well," said the Queen softly, and if he had not known better, he would have thought she sounded relieved. Had she actually been worried about him? 

He shook away the thought, remembering the real reason he was here. "Well or not, the question is, is it enough? You said you needed me to be 'more'." 

The Queen's eyes seemed to deepen in color. "That you can stand there and say such things to me is proof enough of what you are." 

"Then tell me what you want of me, and how I can save my son!" He could be brave for his boy, brave enough to demand the answers he needed. 

"True love is powerful," said the Queen, "but it is not the only power in the world. We foresee a time when no more saplings are born, a time when true love has been eradicated from all existence." 

"How is that possible?" Rumplestiltskin knew true love as the most powerful magic in all the realms. Eradicated? And he had not seen even a glimmer of such a dire fate in all his visions. 

"When you put your mind to it, nothing is impossible," was the Queen's ambiguous answer. "But if love is gone, what future is that for your son, or for his family in days to come?" 

"You already have a plan," Rumplestiltskin said flatly. "Don't toy with me. Tell me." 

The Queen turned her gaze to her tree. "Nevethe is said to be timeless, but nothing that exists is truly timeless, or there would be no life. My tree was born at the dawn of creation. However you count it, that's a long, long time ago." 

Rumplestiltskin nodded. Time took its toll on everything — even the Wood? 

"Dawn becomes day becomes dusk becomes night. The power that was strong in the morning fades in the evening. That's how it goes. The union that happened once must happen again, in order to bring a new dawn." 

"The union... the union between light and dark?" 

"We are creatures of the trees, but you are a Dark One with a soul rooted in the shadow world. That makes you the living embodiment of the primordial darkness. Half of a new union." 

"The other half embodying light, I suppose." Rumplestiltskin thought it over. "So... are you saying you want me to get married?" He couldn't help but laugh. "And that went so well before!" 

"Then you have the advantage of experience, to not repeat your mistakes," the Queen told him sternly. "That is exactly what is required of you." 

"And you've persuaded _her_ to agree, this prospective bride of mine?" Rumplestiltskin snorted in derision. Even Cora had ripped out her own heart rather than risk loving him. What chance could he have with a woman who embodied light? 

"It's far more persuasive if it comes from you," the Queen said, sounding amused. "Remember, none of us have any future to speak of if your union fails." 

Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth. "No pressure, then. Very well. Who is she, this paragon of light?" 

"She hasn't been born yet." 

Rumplestiltskin's eyes bulged. "What?" 

"But soon will be!" the Queen amended. "We have seen it. Looked through the timelines and found the best candidate." 

"You couldn't have found someone a wee bit older?" 

"The betrothal must be pledged now. Catch!" The Queen's magic flickered, and a crystal tumbled out of the air. 

Rumplestiltskin caught it hastily before it hit the ground. "You expect me to..." 

"It is the other half of yours. When the time comes, it will find her heart. For now, a betrothal will suffice to tie you together." 

A betrothal being a magically binding contract. Surely there must be another way. "Can't we at least wait a few years for her to grow up? There are realms where time moves more quickly, if this doom you foretell is that close at hand." 

The Queen's aura turned serious. "Darkness is not easily bound to light. Darkness may swallow up light, but light burns the dark. She must have time to learn to accept something that runs against her very nature. Think of it as an inoculation." 

In the end, he made the only choice that _his_ nature would permit. He had once murdered a man to gain power enough to save Baelfire's life. If this time around, he had to arrange a betrothal to a child yet unborn... it was hardly worse than murder, was it? 

Whatever he had to do to secure this farce of a marriage, he would do without regret. No, that was a lie. He would regret it, but regrets wouldn't stop him. 

Rumplestiltskin laughed hollowly. He was a monster. "Gods, I don't even know her name." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed Hong Qi Gong ("Old Man Hong") from Jin Yong's "Condor Heroes" series.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Maurice rather than Gaston being the one who explicitly captures and tortures an ogre child. It doesn't seem out of character for him, considering how he apparently approved of Gaston and it was policy for his soldiers to torture captured ogres. Also, Belle claims "there's never been an ogre anywhere near the castle before" which suggests Gaston really did provoke the war.
> 
> We had one whole scene with Colette on screen, so obviously I'm taking massive liberties in how I portray her. I made up a lot of stuff about the Church and the clergy in Avonlea, based on the few unreliable hints in canon. We're also adding random family members because why not? (And the Belle in the original tale had all those siblings and so on.)

* * *

Fifteen years and the Dark Castle was much the same as ever. Rumplestiltskin ran a finger along the edge of the dining table in the great hall, and it came away clean. "Hmm." He shot a look at Periwinkle, who had tagged along uninvited along with the other two Timers. "Kept up the housekeeping spells, did you?"

Periwinkle's wings rustled in the Timer equivalent of a shrug. "I don't like dust in my nose. Besides, it wouldn't do to annoy the castle. Here, you can have it back."

Rumplestiltskin felt her gather up the castle's key spell, transferring control back to him. The air seemed to hum, giving off a subtle sense of welcome and relief that he was home again. "So, what exactly have you been up to these past fifteen years, my dear usurper?"

"Oh, well, as to that—" Periwinkle waved a claw. A cloud of pale blue smoke billowed over the table, clearing to reveal a small pile of books and a much larger pile of dream catchers. "You can see for yourself."

Rumplestiltskin scowled. He concentrated on a scanning spell, waving a hand over the jumbled piles, trying to extract the highlights. The dream-weavers contained Periwinkle's memories of all her dealings as the "Dark One", while the books were journals logging visitors and noteworthy events in the Enchanted Forest and neighboring realms, including Arendelle, Oz, and Wonderland. He admitted grudgingly, "You've been very thorough. Managed to stay in character, did you?"

"Of course." Periwinkle looked offended. "What do you take me for?"

"A wee meddlesome beast in the service of a colossal meddlesome beast," snapped Rumplestiltskin.

"That's gratitude for you. We're trying to help you, you know."

"Because you want something from me." He waited a beat, but she didn't deny it. _Everything comes at a price._ "Fine. Well, I'm sure Nevethe can apply your talents elsewhere. Job well done, top marks — now get out of my castle. Go on, shoo!"

Periwinkle rolled her eyes, but complied. She lowered her neck in a bow, then vanished into the shadows beneath the table.

Rumplestiltskin turned his glare to Cogsworth and Lumiere, who both looked like they were trying to fade into the background, another bit of brass and mahogany to go with the rest of the furniture. He cleared his throat loudly.

"Oh, you'll not be so easily rid of us," said Cogsworth.

Lumiere nodded. "We're your friends."

Rumplestiltskin snorted.

 _Dark Ones don't have friends,_ sneered the darkness. _Only people who want to use us._

Well, they would see, wouldn't they? Rumplestiltskin crossed his arms and continued glaring at the two self-professed 'friends'. "I won't do it. Bae wanted me to be a better man, not a cradle-snatching defiler of innocents. So you can go back to your damned queen and tell her the deal's off..."

"But—" began Cogsworth.

"It's off. No doubt in her wisdom she has another candidate lined up already to take my place if I fail!" Having thought about it, the odds of him finding true love were minuscule, seer's sight or not, and Nevethe was not such a fool as to put all her eggs in one basket. Lumiere's guilty flinch confirmed Rumplestiltskin's guess. "I'm not the first one she's tried, am I?"

"No, you are not," Lumiere admitted. "Long ago, when our doom was but a shadow on the horizon, she sent the holy grail to Merlin and Nimue, but alas, their love was not love enough..."

 _It was Merlin who failed us,_ hissed the darkness, this time in Nimue's voice. _He couldn't accept me for what I was. Whoever the senile old bitch has her eye on for you, she won't accept you, either._

Rumplestiltskin didn't need the darkness to tell him that; he had proof enough from his own wretched history. "The Queen mentioned knowing other versions of me. I'm not even the first Rumplestiltskin she's used in this insane plan, am I?"

"No," confessed Cogsworth.

"And they all failed?" Rumplestiltskin saw the answer in their eyes. Of course they had failed. The trees of Nevethe were seeded by true love; a mere contract marriage was worthless. He tore the ring from his hand, the one with the crystal, and let it roll onto the table, along with the other crystal meant for his intended. "Then count me as the latest failure. The Queen can have her tokens back — take them and get the hell out of my castle."

Not waiting for their response, Rumplestiltskin transported himself to his tower, slamming the doors shut with a spell.

 _Take care they don't kill you,_ whispered the darkness. _You're a loose end._

Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth. It had been a rash gesture to make himself vulnerable by giving up the crystal, but he had to know.

_Know what? You're already at a disadvantage. You made an oath and now you're breaking it..._

"Better to break an oath than to destroy an innocent life," he muttered. An innocent, sacrificed for nothing, for a plan that had no chance of succeeding. "A fool's hope."

_So what? You're just going to sit in your tower and sulk? You can't do that!_

But he could. He did. For hours. For days. When the Timers made no attempt to kill him, he expected them to give up and go home. It would be better that way, less painful for all concerned. Never mind the pang of regret he wasn't feeling. If they had been kind to him, it was only out of duty. He wouldn't miss that pair of idiots — of course he wouldn't!

Instead, after two weeks, Cogsworth stuck his head through the window one night and told him, "It's been a fortnight, you stubborn ass."

He must be hanging onto the outside of the tower, thought Rumplestiltskin in bemusement. But with the shadows warded, it was about the only way to visit him that wouldn't provoke a sorcerous battle.

Then Cogsworth's head was pushed aside and Lumiere appeared. "Come downstairs. Eat something. Lack of food only makes you stupid."

Rumplestiltskin sighed, heaving himself to his feet from his stool. "Do you know how ridiculous you look?" He waved a hand and teleported them inside, where they tumbled awkwardly onto the floor. "Why are you still here?"

"We could hardly leave you to rot away by yourself, could we?" said Cogsworth.

"Of course you could, quite easily," Rumplestiltskin retorted. "I told you, the deal's off. Go harass her majesty's next prize booby, why don't you?"

"It is as I have said: we are your friends." Lumiere straightened himself with a shake of his wings and gazed earnestly at Rumplestiltskin. "We are here to help."

"Help? I told you, I won't do it." Rumplestiltskin turned away, not meeting his gaze.

"Then we'll help you find another way," said Cogsworth.

"And abandon your queen's grand plan?" Rumplestiltskin glanced back at them, not even breathing as he waited for their answer. _Do they mean it? And if they do..._

"There are other Timers in Nevethe," said Lumiere. "We could not abandon a friend!"

Rumplestiltskin breathed again. Perhaps they _did_ mean it. Was it enough to hang his hopes on? If friendship was possible, then...?

 _Don't fool yourself,_ the darkness told him. He ignored it.

It wasn't as if he had anyone else to turn to for help. The gods had never favored him, any more than their fairy minions. Mortals avoided him unless they were desperate, and none of the desperate souls he had dealt with had had the power to change the future he foresaw. These two hadn't abandoned him even knowing he was useless — he owed them something for that.

But it had been fifteen years already, and now he was looking at twenty more at the least, with Bae no closer than before. He slumped back down on his stool. Without quite looking at the Timers, he asked quietly, "This... this mad plan of... of marriage. To someone of the light. Is there any hope in it?"

* * *

It was always a matter of leverage. Something for something, and if the other party was desperate enough, a deal could be struck. The prophesied child of the light was the future daughter of Prince Maurice and Lady Colette of Avonlea, a small kingdom on the northern coast. Rumplestiltskin hadn't been summoned there often, which said something about the relative contentment of the populace. Then again, he also had vague memories of the church there and its alliance with the fairies. No doubt the name of the Dark One was on the top of their "do not call" list.

Looking through the journals left behind by Periwinkle, Rumplestiltskin found more excitement than he had expected. His own investigations with a crystal ball confirmed his luck.

"Well, well, well," he said to Cogsworth and Lumiere. "It seems I won't have to look far to get the leverage I need. Ogres make many a desperate soul! Avonlea is under siege. I doubt they can hold out much longer."

"This is a problem of their own making," said Lumiere disapprovingly. "Their crown prince hunts them as beasts, sparing not even their infants. And the latest victim was their chieftain's son."

"Ogres, ah, a brutish race," said Cogsworth. "But not unreasoning. In the natural course of events, they would sack the capital, kill this Prince Maurice, and be done with it. Ogres have no interest in empire-building."

Rumplestiltskin eyed the pair of Timers. "You two seem well-informed. Do I detect the invisible hand of Nevethe in this?"

"A nudge, that is all," Lumiere claimed. "So that Avonlea knows where to turn for aid."

* * *

"Mighty Zeus, hear our prayers." Lady Colette knelt before the altar upon which she had placed her offering of meat and fat, prepared by the royal cook himself. The rich scent almost masked the acrid smoke of burning villages that had hung over them the past few days. Ogres had set fire to fields and buildings alike, driving the survivors to crowd inside the keep with what little of their livestock they could salvage. "Take pity on your faithful and deliver us from the fury of the ogres."

Bones were the common sacrifice that were due to the gods, thanks to the Traitor's trickery, but Colette hoped that a display of piety would move the Sky Father's heart. All her other prayers had gone unanswered thus far. She opened her eyes and looked up at the stained glass windows, trying to take inspiration from the images: Zeus the conqueror, Athena the wise, Hera the maternal.

Colette touched her abdomen, where her womb was just beginning to swell. "Great Mother, have mercy. Let my child live..."

"Gods willing, it is not too late." Octavius, the Archbishop of Avonlea, spoke from the entrance of the royal chapel.

Colette stood hastily and turned, smoothing her dress and bowing her head. "Your grace."

"But perhaps you may do more for your people in the council chamber." Octavius regarded her with all the weight of his advanced age and authority. "Your husband's family lack your devotion to the path of righteousness. In this trying time, instead of putting their faith in the gods to strengthen their arms, they have turned to old pagan rites..."

Colette gasped as she took his meaning. "The Demon Queen of the Grove? But I've spoken to Maurice. He said he would make sure his parents didn't fall to temptation."

"Alas, desperation makes fools of even the wisest kings. The Demon Queen has given them the name of the Dark One, and the king intends to use it. " The archbishop beckoned to Colette. "Come, my child, if we hasten, we may yet avert the summoning."

Colette nodded, hurrying after the archbishop. She burst into the council chamber in defiance of protocol. "You can't summon that demon!"

In the silence that followed her shout, Colette realized with horror that she was too late. She could see it in the king's grim expression, in the queen's sympathetic eyes, in Maurice's guilty flinch. The fatal name had already been spoken.

She blanched, whispering, "No..."

Maurice lurched to her side, wrapping a comforting arm around her. "It'll be all right, darling."

The queen looked at her. "We have no other choice."

"You always have a choice!" thundered Octavius. "You have brought the wrath of the gods on Avonlea."

"What worse could they do?" The king held up a hand before the archbishop could answer. "Avonlea won't last another day. We can't hold the walls. How many more must die?"

"Better to fight and die than to dirty our tongues with blasphemy," the archbishop fired back.

"Perhaps he won't come," said Colette, but she wasn't sure if it was a hope or a fear. Was there truly no other way out? She wanted a future for her child, for her family, but now it would be a tainted future, even if they lived.

Hope or fear, it was too late. A billowing cloud of maroon smoke materialized in the middle of the chamber with a whoosh. It dissipated into nothing, revealing a leather-clad man with glittery, scaly skin and reptilian eyes. Despite his slight build, he filled the room with his presence.

His voice was high and mocking as he spoke into the sudden silence. "You sent me a message. Something about, um, 'Help, help! We're dying. Can you save us?' Now, the answer is — yes, I can. I can protect your little kingdom. For a price."

"We have gold," said the king.

"Ah, no. You see, I, uh, _make_ gold." The demon grinned viciously. "What I want is something a bit more special. What I want, you don't have... yet." To Colette's horror, the Dark One's black-clawed finger pointed straight at her.

"No!" Maurice stepped forward, shielding Colette with his body.

"You can't mean..." said the king.

"Your granddaughter's hand in marriage," the Dark One elucidated. "It's her, or no deal."

Colette moved around her husband, needing to face the demon for herself. "I can't sell my own child like that!"

"Of course you can, dearie," sneered the Dark One. "People do it all the time."

"Hardly all the time," protested Colette, but she knew it happened. Parents decided on their children's marriages more often than not. Just as mortals obeyed the gods, children obeyed their parents. It wasn't even unheard of for the alliances to be promised even before the children were born. But to chain her daughter to a demon? She swallowed. She couldn't let it happen. "How could we be so selfish as to trade her future for our own?"

"Refuse my offer, and even should you survive to give birth, you doom the bairn to a gruesome death in an ogre's cooking pot. Now that's what I'd call selfish, dearie." The Dark One giggled, an unhinged cackle that sent a shiver down Colette's spine.

"Colette..." Her mother-in-law gave her a desperate, shamed look. She barely managed to force out the name, the rest of the plea stuck behind her shame.

"We must consider the good of the kingdom," said her father-in-law. "As the ruling family, it is our duty to protect our people. We must all make sacrifices when necessary."

"It is your duty to obey the gods," snapped the archbishop. "Lady Colette, you must be strong. If it is the gods' will—"

"—that everyone in this room be butchered and roasted over the flaming wreckage of your own worldly possessions, you're fine with that, your grace?" The Dark One sighed dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from his cheek. "I shall burn a candle in remembrance of my poor, lost bride."

"You're a monster." Maurice's face flared red with utter outrage. "Get out!"

"As you wish." The Dark One spun on his heels and headed for the door.

"No, wait!" Colette could hardly believe the next words out of her mouth. "We accept your deal." She didn't know if she was relieved or frightened when the demon stopped in his tracks.

"Colette, we can't!"

Colette grasped her husband's hand in her own before he could draw his sword. "I want her to live. Please."

"But what kind of life will it be, promised to this... beast?"

The Dark One's eyes widened in mock offense. "Tell you what, I'll give her twenty-one years before I collect on the deal. Let's see... twenty-one years versus, oh, no years at all."

Colette looked at her in-laws. The queen said nothing.

"I won't force you," said the king, but his expression made it clear what was expected of her.

And she knew she couldn't sacrifice everyone else, all the people not even in this chamber, who were relying on their king and queen to save them. She said quietly, "Maurice, we have to do this."

The archbishop moved as if to protest, but the king forestalled him. "Remember your place, priest. Silence, or I will have you removed."

In the end, Maurice yielded to her pleas. "Very well. Let it be as you wish."

"Wonderful!" The Dark One squealed and clapped his hands in glee. "The deal is struck!"

To Colette's dismay, he sauntered towards her, lizard eyes gleaming. Did he mean to snatch the baby from her womb? She held her ground with an effort. "You promised to give her twenty-one years."

The Dark One snapped his fingers. A crystal pendant on a golden chain appeared in his hand. He bowed to Colette as he presented the pendant. "A token of our betrothal. I've enchanted it with a protection spell. You can wear it for now, and give it to your daughter when she's old enough not to mistake it for a shiny fruit."

Colette accepted the token with trembling fingers.

The Dark One spun away with studied carelessness. "No need to thank me. I'm merely taking care of my investment."

Colette bit back her anger at his callous tone. "She's to be your _wife_."

"Yes, yes, I can hardly wait for that happy day." He turned his head to favor her with a sickening grin. "Bluebirds will sing their joy! Let there be feasts and fireworks!"

"The ogres," she reminded him coldly.

"Will no longer be your concern." His gaze fell on Maurice as he spoke. "As you value your family and your kingdom, know that your little war is _over._ No more 'hunting parties', hmm? Or I won't answer for the consequences."

"How dare you threaten the prince!" Octavius broke his silence, apparently unable to restrain himself any longer. Even as the king signaled to his guards to eject the archbishop from the council chamber, Colette secretly applauded the man, glad that someone at least was willing to stand up to this extortion. "Vile, despicable demon! Peddling your filthy deals to the vulnerable, may the Sky Father strike you down. May the black rot take you before you set eyes on the child..." The rest was lost as he was dragged from the room.

The Dark One rolled his eyes. "Well, don't let it be said I don't know when I'm not wanted. See you in twenty-one years!"

Then he was gone, his exit marked by another plume of maroon smoke.

* * *

Without the threat of the ogres hanging over their heads, Colette's doubts and second-guessing grew worse and worse. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, not when her daughter was promised to a demon before she was even born.

"I'm so sorry, darling." She wept into her pillow after Maurice was asleep.

She knew her husband was taking it hard. Not only had he lost a daughter the same as Colette had, he had also lost his position as the heir to the throne of Avonlea. His parents blamed him for provoking the ogres into the war that had nearly destroyed Avonlea.

Colette had wanted to speak in his defense, but the king had forbidden her.

"You went too far," the queen had told her son. "You tortured the chieftain's son. He was only a child, Maurice."

"Hardly a child. Ogres are not men, and their spawn deserve no mercy."

"So the Church teaches," the king had said, "but a wise king must look beyond dogma. Think! If Yves had been taken by the ogres and treated so, would we have spared anything in our pursuit of vengeance?"

Yves was the youngest of the three royal sons, a quiet boy barely twelve years old this summer. The middle brother, Amaury, became the new heir upon the king's decree.

"This is not the first time you have shown such a lack of judgement, but henceforth your mistakes shall be your own and not the kingdom's." The king had left unspoken the other reason for taking Maurice out of the line of succession: no one wanted to let the Dark One or any potential child of his ( _Gods forbid!_ thought Colette) wriggle his way onto the throne. It was a silent compromise with the archbishop. The royal family would not be tainted by the Dark One's blood (now that Maurice was cut out) and the archbishop would not openly denounce the king for committing unforgivable sins against the gods.

Colette tried appealing to Maurice's mother. "Isn't there something we can do? Annul the deal, or renegotiate, or..."

The queen shook her head. "I'm sorry, my dear, but we can't risk the safety of the kingdom. The Dark One did as we asked: the siege is lifted, the people are safe, and the ogres have returned to their own land. Now it's our turn. At least you have your two decades with your daughter. You must make the most of them."

Colette knew then that there would be no help from that quarter. She tried going to the fairies. They refused to involve themselves in war, but now that Avonlea was at peace, they were busy restoring the destroyed farmland, so that not all the year's harvest would be lost. They could only spare one of the junior fairies, the Russet Fairy, to help her.

"Oh no, my lady, the Order isn't permitted to interfere with the Dark One's deals."

Maybe not so much help, then. Colette ground her teeth in a most unladylike fashion. "There must be _something_ you can do. My daughter is an innocent. Why does she have to pay this price?"

The Russet Fairy nodded. "That doesn't seem fair. Perhaps if you appeal to Nevethe..."

"Nevethe? You mean the Demon Queen?"

The fairy winced. "Please don't call her that to her face. Whatever you think of her, she is very powerful. Especially in the Wood."

"You're right." Colette steeled herself for the next part. If Maurice's parents could do it, so could she. "Can you take me to see her?"

"Not I, but I know someone."

The fairy introduced Colette to the caretaker of the old shrine in the royal forest, a hermit who turned out to be another demonic creature in human guise. The 'hermit' shifted back into her natural shape, complete with horns, wings, and tail, to magically transport Colette to the Wood Beyond, as the demons called it.

Stranded in a strange realm with only a demon for company, Colette could only gather her courage and move forward. Do the brave thing, she told herself. The wood was eerily empty, though sometimes she thought she heard voices or animal cries. The first other human she saw was a distant figure standing on top of what looked like a jumble of boulders. As they came closer, Colette saw that it was a young woman with dark hair. Colette couldn't hear what she was saying, but she looked angry, stabbing a finger at what seemed to be thin air.

As Colette drew closer to the boulders, the demon gestured at a stairway carved into the rock. "Go on up, if you want to see the Queen."

As she reached the top, Colette realized that the demon meant it literally. The dark-haired woman had vanished, but now Colette was shocked to find two gigantic eyes peering at her out of the air. She blinked, and suddenly realized it wasn't _air_ , it was the translucent head of a vast dragon-like monster. _No wonder the ancients worshipped it as a goddess!_

The glowing eyes focused on the demon hermit. "Hora. What have you brought me this time?"

"Lady Colette of Avonlea," said the demon. "She seemed unhappy."

"You told Maurice's parents to summon the Dark One," Colette accused the Demon Queen.

"I did." The Demon Queen pinned Colette with its gaze.

"And the deal for my daughter? Was that your idea, too?"

"It was." A suggestion of sharp teeth hung in the air. "Are you trying to renege on the contract?"

Colette said as steadily as she could, "Perhaps we could renegotiate the terms."

"The only party who has a right to renegotiate has not yet been born. Besides, you have nothing else I am interested in."

"But..." Colette couldn't stop her voice from hitching. "My daughter...'

"You think it's hard on her, this fate?" The Demon Queen scoffed, a sound like a low roll of thunder. "You think it's any easier on the Dark One? If you knew how often I had to pick up the pieces when..." The gigantic head shook from side to side. "No matter. The deal is the deal, and in the end it will prevent more suffering than you can imagine."

In the end, Colette was forced to let Hora take her back to Avonlea. The deal with the Dark One stood, and there was nothing Colette could do to evade it without losing her daughter in an even worse way.

 _A fate worse than death,_ said the storytellers, but it wasn't. Life must still be better, even for someone promised to the Dark One. Colette choked down her meals for her daughter's sake and prayed to the gods for guidance. They had just over twenty years to find a way to free her child. There was still hope.


	4. Chapter 4

Her name was "Belle." Rumplestiltskin watched the naming ceremony through his crystal ball. He had a formal invitation from the king of Avonlea, but no one expected or wanted the Dark One's presence, including himself. The least he could do for Belle was to let her grow up in peace, far away from her monstrous betrothed. 

Peace shouldn't be a problem, thought Rumplestiltskin, now that he had dealt with the ogres. Ogres had long memories and remembered what the Dark One could do to them, if he chose, so they chose to accept his generous gift of gold and cattle in lieu of Maurice's head. There had already been enough burning and killing to satisfy their rage, and the knowledge that Maurice would never take power in Avonlea was just a bonus. The ogres, accepting the Dark One's treaty, promised to stay out of Avonlea for the next hundred years. 

The archbishop of Avonlea was more worrying, being in position to make life difficult for Belle. Rumplestiltskin paid him a separate visit, in private. 

"Dark One." Octavius didn't blink when the sorcerer materialized without warning in his office. Perhaps he _had_ been given warning by the gods he served. "You have no business here. Your presence pollutes the very earth you stand upon." 

"Well, you can always have it purified later," said Rumplestiltskin. "I'm just here to make certain you keep your claws out of my promised bride." 

"An ill-made promise. They should never have agreed. It was the will of the gods that Avonlea be punished." 

"And they call _me_ the Dark One!" Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "It makes one wonder why you think these gods of yours deserve such devotion." 

"They repay loyalty with loyalty, but too many in Avonlea harbor heresy in their hearts, even the highest in the land." 

"You mean the old religion. Even your gods are newcomers compared to her in the Wood, eh?" Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "I don't care what gods you follow, but you and your church are to leave Belle in peace. If I find that you have caused her harm..." 

The archbishop's pale eyes narrowed. "You dare pit yourself against the gods?" 

"Trust me, you don't want to find out, dearie." Rumplestiltskin gave him his most evil smile. "It would be highly unpleasant for you on a personal level." 

Rumplestiltskin left Octavius to stew, but the man was a weasel. "Lumiere!" 

Lumiere was the gentler of the two Timers, thought Rumplestiltskin, and good with children, something he had noticed in the course of their fifteen years in the other realm. 

"I need your help, Lumiere. Belle needs someone to look out for her, but it shouldn't be me. It wouldn't be right to put myself in her life when she's too young to know any better and tell her she has to marry me!" 

Lumiere nodded. "You have a point." 

"You see why it must be you. Go to her. Protect her. Teach her. Let her have as happy a childhood as she can, under the circumstances." Rumplestiltskin sighed, wondering if it would be better to grow up in ignorance, but no. "Don't lie to her. And do no harm." 

The Dark Castle seemed almost too quiet after Lumiere had gone. Cogsworth didn't complain, but Rumplestiltskin could see that he missed the other. 

"Well, you're immortal," Rumplestiltskin said. "The time will fly by!" 

"Twenty years, ten months, thirteen days—" 

"Yes, yes, yes," Rumplestiltskin interrupted before he could get into hours, minutes, and seconds. "You're not a prisoner. You can still visit him." 

"Mmm," said Cogsworth glumly. "It's not the same." 

"Then we should keep busy, dearie!" Rumplestiltskin whirled away and gestured. A scroll appeared in his hand in a puff of smoke, unrolling itself with a dramatic flapping sound. "The laws of the land! My lands, to be precise." 

"What about them?" 

"They must change. They must be amended! Listen, Cogsworth. That poor girl is to be the last. No more!" He was sickened by his own hypocrisy, but at least he could make sure that no one in his domain was forced into a marriage too young or because they had no choice about it. 

Outside of his domain was another matter entirely. Rumplestiltskin hadn't given up on his old plans, not when he couldn't be sure that his allegiance to Nevethe would give him what he needed. Periwinkle had filled in well enough in his absence that he was confident he could still pull it off. King George had his adopted son — a prince to be molded in his own ruthless image. 

And Cora had her daughter. 

"Regina," Rumplestiltskin muttered to himself, watching the girl from the invisibility of the shadow realm. Clear enough where Cora's plans were headed on that score. Poor child, growing up with a heartless mother and a weak father. No one deserved that. _It's what you foresaw,_ whispered the darkness. _Your pity will get you nowhere. Or are you as useless as Cora's prince?_

No. It was all for his boy. All for Bae. Rumplestiltskin slid away through the shadows before Cora's magic detected his intrusion. He needed this Regina. In a few years, he thought, she will summon the Dark One. And then they would see. 

He threw himself into other deals, here, there, everywhere — keeping himself from thinking of the children (Belle, James, Regina... how many more?) whose lives he ruined in the name of protecting his own. When he could, he tried to balance the scales by helping other innocents. 

_Assuaging your guilty conscience on unimportant lives,_ sneered the darkness. _How meaningless._

No one is unimportant, he protested to himself, not to themselves. Not to their loved ones. But it didn't make him less of a monster, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise. 

Guilt lent his tongue a sharp and vicious edge when next he was summoned. It didn't take long to spy out the story behind the desperation. The man who called his name was wounded, his soul reeking of blood and violence. 

"Well, if it isn't the brave Sir Marek, looking a little worse for wear." Rumplestiltskin ignored the two men-at-arms trying to bar his approach. "I hear you've been having trouble of the winged kind?" 

"Cursed griffons!" spat Marek. "I want you to get rid of them. Name your price." 

Rumplestiltskin looked him up and down. Then he flicked his wrist, summoning a dream catcher to his hand. He pointed a finger at Marek's forehead. "Simple enough. I want your memories of your little expedition..." 

"You mean...?" 

"The giants." Rumplestiltskin kept the eagerness from his voice. The _giants_. The giants who were the source of magic beans. The beans he had been seeking for centuries, always out of reach in a land filled with light magic inimical to the Dark One. And now a band of ordinary humans had somehow found their way up the beanstalk? He had to know how they had done it. 

Marek grunted a vague affirmative. "Yeah, fine." 

"Done!" Rumplestiltskin swept the dream catcher over Marek's head. The web flickered as the images were drawn into it. Time enough to look more closely later. "As for the griffons... it would be helpful if I had some trace of them to track them by. Blood, or feathers, or..." 

As it happened, Marek had both, in the form of a piece of a wing he had managed to slice off before the griffons had escaped. "Elusive bastards. Make sure you get all three of them." 

"Oh, the griffons won't be troubling you any further, dearie." Rumplestiltskin offered him a twisted grin. "King George, on the other hand... he doesn't take well to failure, and counting the loss of men and gear, I'm not seeing a profit here. Have fun explaining that to his majesty!" 

The griffons were hidden behind a concealment spell. Rumplestiltskin was impressed by its power. _More light magic._ But using the blood-stained feathers, he threaded his way through the spell and teleported himself to the cave in the mountains where the griffons had retreated. 

It stank of poison and corrupted blood. The griffons were worse off than Sir Marek. 

_Maybe he didn't need to make that deal with me,_ thought Rumplestiltskin. _Maybe I can make another deal, for something better than memories._ A griffon was within his grasp — a griffon from the land above the clouds, a griffon allied with the giants. He hadn't promised to _kill_ the griffons, after all. 

Cloaking himself in his magic, wary of ambush, Rumplestiltskin took a step forward. The griffon in front staggered to its feet, panting heavily as its wings flared across the width of the cave, blocking him. Rumplestiltskin met its pale golden eyes. "Hello, dearie. Do you want to live?" 

The griffon's beak opened for a harsh cry, and its talons dug defiantly into the muddy gravel of the cave floor. It didn't speak any human language, but Rumplestiltskin heard the words clearly. "Shadow spawn. I want nothing from you." 

Startled by his comprehension, Rumplestiltskin was silent. Then he realized it was a property of Nevethe's crystal that enabled him to understand even a creature so alien to his own nature. Shaking off his surprise, he grinned mockingly. "Let's not be hasty. Perhaps a deal can be struck." 

"I know you, Dark One. I know your deals. The humans sent you. You are no better... full of poison and greed! You want the same treasure they sought." 

"Magic beans." The words slipped out before he could stop himself. 

The great wings rustled, uneven and bloodied, but still strong. The griffon's cry was a laugh of triumph. "They are no more. Burned! All burned! He fired the fields rather than let them be looted by thieves." 

"No..." Rumplestiltskin fell back, the griffon's harsh panting loud in his ears. Another hope dashed, another chance lost before he even saw it. "No." 

The griffon chuckled, a rasping whistle through its beak. "Yes. You may have killed me, but even dead, we will not serve your aims." 

"Killed you?" Rumplestiltskin met the pale eyes in surprise. When had he killed...? All he had done so far was break through a concealment spell, a spell stronger than he had expected, but why would that kill the griffon, unless— "You... you can't have been stupid enough to use an open-ended spell." 

The griffon glared at him, but this time, Rumplestiltskin probed past the mask of strength and saw how drained it really was. Too drained to live for much longer. 

"Why?" An open-ended protection spell was light magic, but as deadly and uncertain as any curse. It was a gamble with the caster's life at stake. The implicit sacrifice amplified the power of the spell. Sometimes it was enough, and sometimes it wasn't, but it was always a move of desperation. 

The griffon sighed, lowering its wings and collapsing in an exhausted heap. Rumplestiltskin looked deeper into the cave and saw the two other griffons lying unconscious in the mud. Under the streaks of blood and dirt, their plumage was drab and their fur mottled to confuse the eye — because they were juveniles. "They're... children." 

"My daughters," said the griffon. 

_Congratulations,_ mocked the darkness. _You've left two more children motherless!_

Rumplestiltskin clenched his fists. He hadn't intended— 

_Intent is meaningless, dearie! But don't worry, they won't be orphans for long._

Too young and inexperienced to deflect the poisoned arrows used by King George's monster hunters, they were dying. The poison was too strong and the griffons' magic too weak to save their lives. 

Rumplestiltskin knew the formula for the antidote. 

_And what price will you charge for your knowledge?_ chortled the darkness. 

She's already paid, thought Rumplestiltskin. Ignoring the voice of the darkness, he wrapped the griffons with his magic and transported all of them back to the Dark Castle. 

"Don't touch them!" screeched the mother griffon, backing up to shield her children, both of them still unconscious and unmoving. Then in a defeated hiss, "I... I can't stop you. But they say you're a parent, too. Parent to parent, I ask you to let my children die in peace." 

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes, twirling a hand and spinning on his heels. "They don't have to die at all. It's too late for you, dearie, but it's easy enough to brew an antidote to Georgie's fish toxin. Won't be a jiff, and then I can send your darlings on their way to..." He faltered, his mask slipping as he finished with, "...their father?" 

The griffon laughed shortly. "No need to trouble yourself with an antidote. My mate was a guest at the giants' house when the humans attacked. He fought with the giants and died with them." 

"Then... your kin... in the realm above the clouds?" 

"We are exiles. There is no return for my children." The griffon's pale eyes held Rumplestiltskin's, and he understood then. The pursuit of vengeance was against their law. "We have killed and tasted human blood." 

"Ah," breathed Rumplestiltskin. "I hope it was worth it." 

"We couldn't let it stand." 

He understood that, too. 

"If it's any comfort to you, Sir Marek may have escaped you, but it won't be long until he's dragon bait." Some visions were murkier than others, but Marek's fate had come clear the instant Rumplestiltskin looked into his memories. 

The griffon said nothing, but something in her posture eased. 

* * *

Cogsworth returned to the Dark Castle to find a flock of griffons dying on the floor of the great hall — if you could call three a "flock". He stopped short, wings flaring instinctively against the potential threat. "Oh dear. What have we here?" 

The largest of the griffons opened her eyes and lifted her head. "Timer..." 

Two sides of the same coin, Timers and griffons understood each other easily enough, however much they hated it. Cogsworth's wings settled again. By the looks of it, the griffon was too weak to stand, much less fight, and they both knew it. "Why are you here? Did your king send you? I warn you, the Queen will brook no interference." Though if the griffons had attacked Rumplestiltskin, Cogsworth would have expected them to be dead, or locked in a dungeon. "The Dark One..." 

"...isn't as dark as he could be," sighed the griffon. "I was surprised." 

Cogsworth blinked, taken aback. "You made a deal with him?" 

"Not exactly." The griffon's head lowered to rest on her forelegs again, as if the weight was too much to hold up any longer. "Mind you, your queen's plan is still a fool's gamble." 

Cogsworth bristled. "It is an excellent plan." 

"Shoving an infant and an old demon together, in hopes of sparking true love powerful enough to save the world?" The griffon snorted. "It's obscene. And stupid." 

"Listen, you ignorant birdbrain, we've done the analysis." Cogsworth scowled, knowing most griffons had no head for mathematics, so he simplified as best he could. "We've looked through about twelve thousand alternatives at last count, and they end up together in over nine thousand of them, usually with true love." 

"Why meddle? Can't you just let nature take its course?" 

"You know what happens if we do that? In the best case scenario, they chase a damned fairy prophecy to the Edge of Realms." Cogsworth rolled his eyes at the waste. "She dies. He's suicidally depressed. Then he loses his darkness to his own alter ego, and both of them die, too. He is reunited with Belle in death. Love eternal... and useless." 

"And the worst case?" 

"They embrace their worst selves. And you know the danger of that as well as we do. You've just chosen not to do anything about it." 

The griffon sighed. "Maybe you're right. It's not in our nature to take such risks." 

Cogsworth raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in mild disbelief. "And yet here you are." 

The griffon's eyes closed wearily. "I am... an aberration. Do you... really think... love... will triumph?" 

"Ah." The dying deserved hope, thought Cogsworth, and he tried to sound confident. "I hope so." But he couldn't help muttering, "Of course this would be easier if he weren't such a contrary little shit... but I suppose that's part of his charm." 

"My ears are burning!" announced the Dark One himself, poofing into the great hall in a plume of purple smoke. 

Cogsworth startled, barely suppressing an undignified squeak. 

Rumplestiltskin surveyed the scene with an ironic grin. He said to the griffon, "Ah, I see you've met my spy." 

The griffon opened an eye, brows drawn in puzzlement. "The Dark One needs a spy?" 

"No, no, you misunderstand. He doesn't spy _for_ me, he spies _on_ me for the Queen of the Wood." 

Cogsworth didn't bother to dispute what was, after all, the truth. "Never mind me. Our guests..." 

"Ah, yes." Rumplestiltskin whirled to face the two younger griffons. He shook out his hands. There was a flicker of gold thread, and then two gleaming snakes were twined around his wrists, their eyes smoky shadows and their fangs showing. "The antidote!" 

The griffon's eyes widened in alarm. "Serpents?" 

Rumplestiltskin stepped between the two unconscious griffons and loosed the golden serpents to slither up to the vulnerable underside of their necks, where eagle melded into lion. Wide jaws gaped and needle-like fangs sank in, piercing deep into the vein. "Quickest way to deliver the cure, dearie, and they don't have time to spare." 

Cogsworth looked on, discreetly crossing his fingers (claws, really, but wasn't it the thought that counted?) and held his breath. 

The serpents dissolved into smoke and dissipated. As they all looked on, the two younger griffons seemed to breathe easier. Their legs and wings twitched, at first weakly, then gaining strength. Two pairs of eyes opened, and the griffons rolled to their feet. 

"Mama!" they cried, almost in unison, rushing forward as if to defend her. 

"Easy," huffed their mother weakly. "It's all right." 

Maybe for her children, thought Cogsworth, but he could feel the icy current dragging at her soul, drawing her into death. By all rights she should have crossed already, but something was holding her to this world. He watched her comfort the young griffons. A last farewell. 

"Rumplestiltskin." The griffon spoke the Dark One's name for the first (and as Cogsworth learned later, the only) time. "These are my youngest daughters, my lastborn. They are Eskereye and Otulissa." 

Rumplestiltskin inclined his head, all the mockery gone from his face for once. "You honor me." 

"My name is... my name is Lionevel." It was not her last breath, but not many more remained. Sometime after midnight, her eyes closed for the last time and her chest grew still. 

The two younger griffons cried out in grief at their mother's passing. It was an unearthly keening that transcended flesh and blood and air, and Cogsworth thought that the sound of their sorrow would be heard even in the land above the clouds. He felt it in his own heart, the tug of the ancient kinship they shared, and he saw that even the Dark One was not unaffected. 

But what now? Cogsworth glanced over at Rumplestiltskin with a questioning gaze. 

"Ah," said Rumplestiltskin softly. "I suppose, for now... They can stay with us, here." 


	5. Chapter 5

"Not you," Marceline told Belle. Marceline, at nine, was Belle's cousin and the unofficial leader of the younger children of the royal household who normally played together. Some were from the royal family, others were children of nobles and courtiers, and three were "study companions", who were technically servants but practically treated as younger foster siblings. "You can't play this game." 

"Why?" Belle was surprised and hurt. Was it because she had accidentally torn Marceline's skirt earlier? "I said sorry!" 

Marceline frowned. "It's nothing to do with that." 

Belle didn't believe her. "Then why?" 

The game was an old tradition of Avonlea, a cross between tag and a country dance. The chant that went along with the game was a childish parody of match-making and marriage. Belle had played it before, along with all the others, innocently enough. But this time Marceline was giving her a haughty, knowing look. 

"Because you can't. My papa told me. You're already engaged." Marceline paused, eyes gleaming with malice, then whispered dramatically, "To a demon!" 

"What?" Belle looked around in confusion, but some of the others were already nodding in confirmation. 

"It's true," said one of the study companions. "You were bartered away by your parents." 

"You were the demon's price!" said another. 

The rest began taking up a new chant. "Demon's price! Demon's price! Bartered bride!" 

Belle burst into tears and ran away. 

* * *

"Is it true?" Belle asked her mother later. She kept her voice low for fear of waking her little sister, who had just fallen asleep for her afternoon nap. 

Colette hugged Belle gently. Her expression was sad but resolute. "Yes, darling, it's true. Avonlea was in great danger, and we had to call upon the Dark One for help. He said... he wouldn't take any other price we could offer him. Only you." 

Belle's lip trembled. "I have to marry him?" 

Colette stroked her hair. "Not for a long time, and maybe..." 

Belle looked at her mother through her tears. "Can you save me, Mama?" 

"Maybe not I." Colette smiled a little. "But don't forget, the royal house of Avonlea is descended from Aphrodite herself. She teaches us that true love is more powerful than any demon." 

"True love?" 

"Just like in the stories." Colette had read stories to her every night for as long as Belle could remember. "Just like with all those saints and heroes. Heroes must all overcome great obstacles, or they wouldn't be great heroes!" 

"I don't know how to be a hero." Belle started crying again. 

"A little at a time, Belle. Step by step, every year a little more," said her mother. "Be brave, Belle. I know you can learn to be brave." 

Belle hoped her mother was right, but she didn't feel very brave. The next day, she decided to practice on her governess, a scary woman called Miss Elinore. A few minutes into her morning lesson, Belle asked her about the Dark One. 

Miss Elinore's face turned angry. "Don't speak that name! That demon is not a suitable topic of discussion for god-fearing young ladies." 

Belle shrank back. "But..." 

"Ask that unnatural familiar of yours if you must, but there will be no more talk of the Dark One here. Now let's see how your letters are coming along." 

Belle nodded meekly, dropping her eyes to the slate where she laboriously traced out each letter, copying Miss Elinore's perfectly scribed examples. Maybe she could practice being brave with someone else. 

* * *

Lumiere thought he could have made as good a governess as anyone, certainly better than that pious battle-axe Lady Colette had hired. But he was apparently the wrong gender, and regarded as a demon to boot. Humans! What a pig-headed race they were. It was only as a concession to the Dark One's potential wrath that Lumiere was officially allowed to teach little Belle for three and a half days a week. 

"Lumiere! Lumiere!" Belle was early this afternoon, galloping into the courtyard of the house the king had granted him. It was nestled against the outer wall of the main keep, away from the bustle of the royal court, so that the nobles would not offend their eyes with the sight of a "demon". Amused by the idea, Lumiere obliged them by fading into the shadows whenever he ventured into their domain. If they would rather be spied on than have a friendly conversation with him, that was their problem and not his. 

Or perhaps not. He frowned, seeing the unhappiness on Belle's face. He had heard of some trouble with the other children yesterday, and if she was still upset today... He stepped outside to meet her at the doorstep. "What is it, little one?" 

She stared at him with big round eyes. "Is it true? Did the Dark One send you to make sure I can't run away?" 

What _had_ people been telling her? Lumiere huffed in exasperation. "He sent me to protect you and teach you." 

"They said I have to marry him." 

Lumiere berated himself for not explaining it earlier, but he had kept putting it off, thinking the child was still too young to understand — forgetting that she lived in a house full of gossiping "they" and "them" who had far too much to say about things _they_ didn't understand. "'They' are full of hot air." 

Belle still looked weepy. "Mama said true love can save me. Why can't she save me? Doesn't she love me?" 

"True love is very magical, that is true," Lumiere said cautiously. "And your mother does love you. But timing is also important. You are still young. It will be many years before you need to think about getting married." 

"Years? But won't he be very old then?" 

Lumiere laughed. "My dear child, he's very old _now._ " He shook his head. "But you have years to catch up..." He knew humans were funny about age differences, but the Dark One was immortal, just like the Timers. For immortals, the older you got, the less likely it was to find someone your own age to fall in love with. Cogsworth could work out the exact probabilities, but he wasn't here, and anyway Belle didn't need a statistics lesson right now. "Everything will be all right, you'll see." 

Belle didn't look convinced. "But he's the Dark One." 

Lumiere sighed. "He has a name. 'Dark One' this and 'Dark One' that, it sounds such a horror. You should call him 'Rumplestiltskin'." 

Belle squinted at him, repeating the name uncertainly. "Rumplestiltskin?" In her child's mouth, it came out more like "Wumbol-silssin." 

Lumiere chuckled. "Close enough." 

Belle frowned. "Mama says he's a demon. She says you're a demon, too." 

"People say things, too many things." 

"But is it true? Demons are bad. Are you bad?" 

"I like to think I am not, but it is something you must judge for yourself, little Belle." Lumiere had no wish to hurt anyone, yet it was true that he served a power who was not human in her morality, whose plans and secrets could be called dangerous, or even evil. Depending on your point of view, of course. _He_ would say differently, but he wasn't human, either. "Look, listen, remember. What people say, what they do, how they are to others..." 

"They didn't want to play with me," Belle told him. "Am _I_ bad?" 

"Oh no, no, no, no, my dear child. Your future was sacrificed to make them safe, and they perhaps feel a little guilty, so they blame you for it, even if they don't mean to," Lumiere tried to explain. 

"I don't understand." 

"Perhaps in time, you will. For now..." Lumiere cast about for something she could take comfort in. Then he pointed to the pendant she wore. "See that crystal? See how it glows just a little bit? That's a sign of hope for your future." 

Belle took off the chain and cupped the crystal in her hands, staring into it. "Really?" 

"Listen to it. What does it tell you?" 

Belle looked intently into the crystal, and Lumiere thought it wasn't his imagination when it glowed just a little brighter, taking on a purple tinge. A smile crept over Belle's face, and she whispered something. 

Something in no mortal tongue. 

Lumiere gasped involuntarily. It was the language of the original dark realm, spoken by no earthly creatures except the Dark Ones and their mates. But this Belle hadn't even met him yet. Something must have bled through the crystal, some memory or thought crossing reality. 

Belle blinked, waking from whatever trance had taken hold of her. "Oh." 

Lumiere cleared his throat. "Yes, well. Time for your lesson." The official lesson, as opposed to the impromptu _something_ he had just triggered in her. "A bit of gardening, just the thing! And lovely weather for it, don't you think?" 

* * *

"Maurice, we can't let it go on this way." Colette watched her husband watch their younger daughter, who was currently sitting up on a blanket and playing with a toy elephant. "I'm worried about our daughter." 

"What do you mean? Sylvie is a fine, healthy girl," said Maurice. 

"I'm talking about our other daughter. Belle." 

"Yes, of course," Maurice agreed, but his voice was distant. "She's fine, too. Has everything she needs." 

"No, she doesn't." Colette wanted to shake her husband out of his willful blindness — one she had shared, until their daughter had run home crying her heart out. "She doesn't have the acceptance of her family and peers. First they didn't want her in their classes..." 

"Well, it's understandable," Maurice said uneasily. "All things considered..." 

"She's still family!" 

"But whose family, sweetheart? You know she's already been claimed. You only have to look at that demon he sent..." Maurice shook his head. "We can have more children. Ones not owed to the Dark One." 

"That doesn't mean Belle isn't our daughter anymore." Colette could see that Maurice did think exactly that. He wanted to cut his losses. 

Maurice shrugged. "You're doing your best. No one can point a finger and say otherwise. You found that governess for her, didn't you? What does it matter if she sits with the others for the Royal Tutor?" 

Colette gritted her teeth. "It matters. Maurice, we need to talk to your parents." 

His parents listened, then called for a wider council meeting, including the parents of the other noble-born children as well as Archbishop Octavius. 

When Colette saw the look on the archbishop's face, she began to suspect who had been behind the latest whispers tarring her firstborn with the taint of darkness. Damn the man! She had once respected him for his piety, but ever since the deal with the Dark One, she had found little support from him, even though her daughter was innocent of any wrongdoing. Instead, he had turned Colette, her husband, and her children into a sign of the royal family's moral decay, used as leverage against the king in the archbishop's power games. 

Just as everyone was looking at the king to call the meeting to order, a new voice rang through the chamber. 

"Ah, here you are!" The Dark One's demon stepped out of the shadows by the east wall, settling into place with a shake of its wings. Those closest to it backed away hastily, and Colette saw a few people make the sign against evil. 

"How dare you show your face in the king's council!" thundered the archbishop. 

"What is wrong with my face?" The demon craned its neck, peering at everyone in the chamber. Then it sat back on its haunches and waved a claw. "Never mind my face. If his majesty convenes a meeting regarding our dear little Belle, naturally I am concerned. So here I am!" It showed its teeth in a monstrous grin. 

The king narrowed his eyes as the demon spoke, then nodded. "Be welcome, Master Lumiere." He gave the archbishop a hard look. "I invited him." 

At this, there was another wave of surprised murmurs in the room. Colette watched the demon warily. She supposed the king was being diplomatic in inviting the Dark One's representative, but its presence still made her uneasy. She tried not to let it show when it was her turn to speak. 

"Belle is still our daughter, no matter what her future holds." Colette made sure to meet their eyes, all these people who would rather forget that fact. "The Dark One promised to give her twenty-one years before he collected on his deal, and he never breaks his word." 

The king nodded. "So legend has it. Our granddaughter deserves the same as any other child of this house. Let her be taught with the others as is her right." 

"But your majesty..." It was Amaury's wife who spoke out first. She gave Colette a dark look. "Twenty-one years or not, that girl has already been taught the gods-know-what vile heresies and sorcery. You cannot let her corrupt our innocent children! Amaury is your heir now, and Marceline and Pascal after him. Think of the future of Avonlea." 

The demon spluttered, "'Vile heresies and sorcery'? What a nonsense!" 

The king glanced at the demon. "You disagree, Master Lumiere?" 

"But of course," declared the demon, its eyes flashing. "I teach only the most wholesome arts of nature and mankind. If you do not believe me, you are all welcome to attend our lessons!" 

The king smiled slightly. "Now there's a thought." He looked around the chamber. "The children can all learn together, whether it be with our Royal Tutor or with Master Lumiere." 

An immediate outcry followed this suggestion, some angry and some disbelieving. 

Colette held her peace. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? For Belle to be treated the same as any other child of the royal house. If her daughter was to be subjected to a demon's tutelage, it was only fair that the others share that burden! 

The king held up a finger to silence the protests. "Is it Master Lumiere's rectitude or his scholarship that you doubt? Think carefully! We would not want the Dark One to take insult, would we?" 

"Such care for the Dark One's opinion," sneered the archbishop. "One might think you had forgotten the gods." 

The king stared the archbishop down. "It was the gods who had forgotten us, your grace, or do you forget who saved Avonlea from the ogres?" 

The archbishop flushed angrily. "So you take that demon for your god now, is that it?" 

"Gratitude is considered a virtue, even by the gods," said the king softly. He looked around the chamber, but no one else dared object openly. "I have spoken. So let it be done." 

* * *

Lumiere thought he would have gone mad if he had been saddled with the full-time teaching of this gaggle of mostly noble-born brats, but luckily for his sanity, he only had them twice a week, as did the Royal Tutor, the rest of their time being spent with governesses, riding masters, sword masters, and the like. 

The parents didn't help, hovering at the edges of his classes radiating suspicion or outright hostility, but Lumiere had more patience than most of them, and wore them down with a persistently unassailable good nature that deflected all their barbs. A demon he might be to them, but one that they saw every day treating their children with more respect than many humans would have. 

As for Belle, once the novelty wore off, and everyone saw that she was treated as kindly or harshly as any other student, she was gradually accepted by her peers for the most part. But even so, people never truly forgot what she was: a sacrifice for the safety of their kingdom, one tainted by association with an unsavory deal. 

Once she learned to read, things changed again. Her curiosity and love of books set her apart as much as her connection to the Dark One, but given her position, it was seen as a harmless quirk rather than something to be afraid of. This changed after Belle asked the wrong questions, or perhaps it was the answers that changed things. 

"What is he like?" was the start of it. Belle was not the kind of person to blindly accept a fate determined for her by someone else. 

Lumiere did his best to explain the contradictions inherent in a kind-hearted man who had lived with crushing darkness for multiple mortal lifetimes. 

"But what is he really like? I want to meet him," Belle insisted once all the explanations proved inadequate. 

"This, ah, I don't know," stammered Lumiere. "Perhaps it would not be wise." 

"But he's promised to marry me. Why can't I meet him?" 

Which was reasonable enough, except that Rumplestiltskin wasn't always reasonable (another aspect of the Dark One where Lumiere's explanation to Belle fell short) and didn't want her to. Even so, Lumiere did his best to change Rumplestiltskin's mind the next time he visited the Dark Castle. "She's very stubborn. It reminds me of someone..." 

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "You can't talk her out of it?" 

"She wishes to meet you," said Lumiere. "She thinks you unreasonable." 

"I'm the Dark One, dearie!" Rumplestiltskin flung his hands up in his signature flourish and twirled to face away from Lumiere. "Tell her to get used to it!" 

"Brilliant start to your relationship," grumbled Cogsworth from the sidelines. 

"She's a child. We don't have a relationship," declared Rumplestiltskin. 

"She is a child, not a turnip," snapped Lumiere. "You cannot simply leave her buried until harvest time!" 

"My dear Lumiere, you've been in Avonlea too long," Cogsworth put in. "The quality of your analogies has regressed..." 

"For Nevethe's sake, just think about it, please," Lumiere said to Rumplestiltskin. 

"Yes, yes, yes, I'm thinking." Rumplestiltskin made shooing gestures in Lumiere's direction. "Now go tell her to enjoy her carefree life while she has it..." 

"Not so carefree as you think," Lumiere started, but gave up at the expression on the Dark One's face. "Very well." 

Months passed. The novelty of the demon instructor had worn off to the point where only a few of the more paranoid parents showed up to keep an eye on Lumiere's classes, but naturally they were the ones most hostile to the idea to begin with. 

Today he had to contend with Lord Girard, father of Michel (called "LeFou" by everyone when they thought they were out of Lumiere's earshot), and Remy, who wasn't a parent but one of the archbishop's junior clerics. The subject of the lesson was cartography, geography, and geology, and a large map was hung up on a screen as illustration. 

The children were eager to crowd up front, pointing out places they knew about and asking about ones they didn't. 

Then Belle piped up with, "Where does the Dark One live?" 

Before Lumiere could debate the wisdom of discussing the Dark One's personal details in front of— 

"Where else? In the Dark Castle, of course!" Rumplestiltskin popped into the middle of the room in a billow of dark smoke, causing the children to scatter away in a cacophony of squeals and shrieks. He snapped his fingers at the map, marking his home with a tiny picture of a castle. He grinned at Belle. "Since you ask so nicely, and it's to be your home, too, someday..." 

Lumiere's tail twitched with a strong urge to throttle the Dark One. At least Belle and the other children looked more curious than terrified. 

Belle glanced at the map, then back at the Dark One. Her eyes were wary, but she only said, "Oh." 

Rumplestiltskin shrugged slightly. "You said you wanted to meet me. Well, here I am!" 

Belle nodded. "Thank you." 

Unfortunately, Lord Girard did not take it so calmly. His face turning red, he burst out, "What the hell are you doing here, you demon?" 

Rumplestiltskin turned slowly to face Girard, smiling wickedly. "I'm checking on my investment, of course. If any harm comes to her while in this land..." 

Girard took the bait, puffing up with his own belligerence. "What? You dare lay a finger on any of us? Sorcerer you may be, but I doubt you could defeat all of Avonlea!" His hand went to the hilt of his sword, stopping just short of drawing steel in a classroom. 

Rumplestiltskin had no such qualms. "Are you quite certain of that, dearie?" He rotated his hand, catching Girard in a spell and turning him into a snail. Another gesture froze the horrified audience. 

Lumiere stared at him, just as horrified as everyone else. Was Rumplestiltskin _trying_ to make everyone hate him? Silly question. Lumiere knew better by now. Rumplestiltskin wanted people to remember what he was, and thought any show of kindness on his part would be a lie. False advertisement. Lumiere sighed. The man was still trapped inside the darkness, for all the good fifteen years with a beggar knight-errant had done him. As soon as he returned to the Enchanted Forest, he was back to being the Dark One, and this deal for Belle was just another nail in the coffin of his self-loathing. Lumiere knew better than to say any of that aloud. 

Rumplestiltskin glanced at him. "How much zoology have you taught them, Lumiere? Perhaps it's time for a practical demonstration—" 

Lumiere interrupted, not wanting to hear if the "demonstration" involved stepping on the transformed noble or worse, "Disenchant that man at once. This is a classroom, not a circus." 

Point made, Rumplestiltskin nodded and waved a hand. The nobleman stumbled upright out of a cloud of maroon smoke, but Rumplestiltskin ignored him and said to Lumiere, "Do continue." 

Lumiere cleared his throat, trying not to look like someone re-arranging his lesson plan on the fly. He needed something flashy, something to distract everyone from the mercurial Dark One — who had backed up to lean against a wall with his arms crossed to smirk at him. Lumiere ignored the smirk. "Now. As for a _practical_ demonstration, does anyone know what a volcano is?" 

The children were hesitant at first, but Lumiere managed to coax them into participating in a little back and forth discussion about the composition of the earth underneath the map, moving on to tectonic plates (illustrated with a set of literal plates borrowed from his kitchen), continental drift, and finally his pièce de résistance, the tiny erupting volcano he conjured on top of his desk. 

Smoke and sparks and fountains of lava shot upwards, nearly setting the ceiling on fire. Rivers of glowing orange flowed down the sides. 

Rumplestiltskin looked amused, sending Lumiere a silent accusation. 

Lumiere didn't dignify the look with a spoken reply. Well, obviously it was an illusion. Who would be silly enough to heat up rocks to the point that they glowed orange? In a classroom full of human children? 

As it was, they looked half-terrified, half-amazed, eyes round and jaws gaping. Lumiere hoped it would be enough to make them forget the presence of the Dark One. To his relief, Rumplestiltskin didn't giggle or squeal or make more of a spectacle of himself, merely vanishing again in another cloud of smoke. 

After what seemed an eternity, the class ended on an ambiguous note. Belle was still a trifle pale and shaky. As for the others... 

Lumiere saw the way the others were trying not to stare at her, and his heart sank. 


	6. Chapter 6

So that was the Dark One. Rumplestiltskin. Belle wasn't sure what to think. He hadn't been very nice to Lord Girard, but Lord Girard wasn't very nice, either. He was always glaring at Lumiere in that disapproving way. But turning him into a snail couldn't be right, could it? 

The other children didn't seem to worry about the morality of it, being more interested in the whole magic thing. 

"Could he really kill everyone in Avonlea?" someone asked at their next class session. 

"The Dark One is the most powerful sorcerer in the realm," answered Lumiere. "If he truly lost his temper or thought he had reason to kill, then it would be a very bad day for Avonlea." 

"How would he do it? Would he turn everyone into things?" 

Lumiere thought about it, then said, "No, unless you count turning people from being alive to being dead. Imagine a great cloud of darkness descending on all the kingdom, a cloud that grows faster than the fastest horse can run or the swiftest falcon can fly." 

Everyone gasped. 

Belle imagined the cloud, imagined people turning into skeletons as the darkness washed over them, and shuddered. She clutched her pendant for comfort and hoped Rumplestiltskin didn't do anything so terrible. Then someone asked the question she had been afraid to ask. 

"How do you know? Did he do it before?" 

Lumiere was quiet for a long time, which Belle found worrying, and finally answered, "Not this Dark One." 

Then everyone else was quiet, too. 

"But not to worry!" Lumiere's tone took an artificially cheerful turn. "I think he will not do such a thing, because you are not _all_ fools, and he may take pity on you. Even if he did, you know, he would pay a heavy price." 

"Pay who?" wondered Belle. She knew Rumplestiltskin could spin gold out of straw, so he must have plenty of money, but she had never heard of him paying someone else. It was always other people paying him for things. 

"Everything comes with a price, especially magic," explained Lumiere. "I do not mean money, which is a human invention that is a way to make the price easier to account for, but the true price. Everything you do has such a price: time, effort, energy, materials, reputation, consequences, and so on." 

The students didn't care about boring normal prices. They wanted to know about magic. 

"Can you teach us magic?" asked Marceline. 

Belle looked at her cousin, surprised that she would want to learn magic, but Marceline just wrinkled her nose back at her. 

"Alas, no," said Lumiere. "Not everyone is born with that ability, which is rare in humans." 

"Why?" 

Lumiere shrugged. "It is what it is. Some creatures are born one way, others another way. Think how bees can see colors humans cannot. It is the same with magic. Timers have magic. Fairies have magic. In this world, humans usually do not. Sometimes it is possible to gain magic, but that is a rare thing." 

"What about other worlds? What other worlds are there? Have you been?" 

Everyone had heard of other worlds, but few had any actual experience. Belle knew that the royal family (much to the archbishop's displeasure) still had a connection with the Goddess of the Grove — the one Lumiere called "Nevethe" and Belle's mother called the "Demon Queen" — who lived in a magical otherworld. She wondered if after she married the Dark One, would he take her to all these other worlds if she asked him? He had come to meet her after she had asked, so maybe it wasn't impossible. 

Belle listened as Lumiere described a few of the other realms he knew about, and she made a mental note of the ones that sounded especially interesting. Her happy fantasy shattered in the face of the real lesson of the week for most of the others: the legend about using the Dark One's name to summon him was true, and worse, he could be summoned by _Belle_. It didn't matter if she wanted to use him as a secret weapon or not — from then on, everyone kept their distance from her. 

It was wearing on the spirit to be treated with such wary politeness, yet if she complained about it, it sounded petty. Belle withdrew further into her beloved books, answering distance with distance. The people in her books didn't know who she was and weren't afraid of Rumplestiltskin. As the months turned into years, and Belle never did bring the wrath of the Dark One down on Avonlea, the other children forgot most of their wariness. But by then, she had established a reputation as a solitary bookworm. 

"Books can lie," Lumiere warned her. "Someone is telling you a story, which can be to illuminate the truth or to hide it. You cannot believe everything you read!" 

"I don't care." Did he think she was stupid? Belle knew the difference between real life and stories, didn't she? And if the stories were better, wasn't that all the more reason to read? To be inspired? 

"Hmph." Lumiere compensated by giving his class more hands-on, practical lessons ranging from rudimentary unarmed self-defense to foraging expeditions and wilderness treks to the basics of various common crafts. When some of the children (and parents) complained, he just told them, "Work is work. How can you appreciate someone else's craft without having tried it yourself?" 

Belle didn't mind. Even if her cousins looked down on her for taking an interest in 'vulgar handicrafts', it just added to her reputation as the odd one out. It was a lonely bubble she lived in, but Belle had stopped noticing it — until Gaston. 

Gaston was an orphan taken in by Lord Girard to be Michel's study companion. The two boys were the same age, but Gaston was bigger, faster, stronger, and louder in contrast to the rather slow-witted Michel "LeFou". LeFou followed Gaston like a puppy, looking up to the other boy, which Gaston took as no more than his due. But none of that mattered, since everyone knew Michel would be a lord someday and Gaston would either stay in his service or have to make his own way in the world as a commoner. 

The year Belle turned nine, Lumiere spent a month teaching them the basics of siege warfare. As part of the lessons, they had to build miniature models of siege weapons, to go with the miniature fortress they were also building. 

"Come on, let's try them out." Gaston brandished his tiny ballista in Belle's direction. 

At first she thought he was talking to someone behind her, probably LeFou, but no, LeFou was nowhere in sight. Startled and flattered, Belle agreed. She picked up her catapult and followed Gaston to the cow pasture near the keep. While she was still trying to figure out what Gaston was really after (he had never taken an interest in her before), he had already loaded and cocked his ballista. 

"Watch this!" Gaston raised the weapon, and before she could see what he was aiming at, fired off a bolt. The victim shrieked and fell in a flurry of black feathers to the ground. A crow. 

"Gaston! Why did you do that?" 

"Good, huh?" Gaston jogged forward to collect his trophy, finishing it off before bringing it back to offer to Belle. 

She shuddered and waved the dead crow away. "I don't want it." 

"I'm going to be the best hunter in this land," said Gaston. 

Belle sighed. "Hunting's not really my thing." 

"Listen, Belle, you and me, we're the same," he told her. 

"We are?" Did he not listen at all? 

"I don't mean the hunting. Of course I'm better at hunting. I mean, what we are. 'An accident of birth'." He leaned forward as if confiding a great secret. "That's what Lord Girard told me. He wishes I was his real son, instead of LeFou. The others are stupid and weak, not like us, but just because of _an accident of birth_ , we'll never be anything in Avonlea." 

Belle stared at him. Of course she was leaving Avonlea when she turned twenty-one, but that was years away, and it was different for Gaston. He could do whatever he wanted, something Belle could be jealous about, except now he was looking at her as if expecting her to feel sorry for him. "I guess if you want to be a noble..." 

"Why shouldn't I? But it doesn't matter what I want, because no matter how good I am, I'll always be beneath that fool Michel." Gaston scowled at her. "Come on, Belle, you know I'm right. It's not fair." 

"Life's not fair," she said automatically. That was what everyone always said to _her_ when she complained. Then she remembered how _she_ felt when people told her that. If life wasn't fair, shouldn't people try to make it better? "But I don't know what you think I can do about it." 

"Aha!" Gaston grinned eagerly. He waved the dead crow in her face as if illustrating some brilliant plan. "It's easy. All you have to do is call up the Dark One and tell him LeFou hurt you. The Dark One will take care of him, and no blame to us. Then Lord Girard will make me his son, you'll see. And when I'm his son, I'll be rich. You won't lose out. Whatever you want..." 

Belle stepped back, avoiding the accusing gaze of the dead bird dangling upside down from Gaston's fist. She shook her head. "I can't." 

"Why not?" Gaston finally lowered his hands. "All you have to do is call his name." 

"I can't. I just can't!" Belle didn't have the words to explain how terrible this plan was, and all she managed was to repeat "no" a few more times. 

"What do you mean you can't?" Gaston's face scrunched up in confusion, then anger. "Why not? Is it because you think he won't listen? That's it, isn't it? It was all a trick. The Dark One doesn't care about you. Why would he? You're just a useless little girl. You think you're so special? Why hasn't he ever come back? I bet he took one look at you and didn't even want you anymore." 

"That's not true!" Belle backed up another step. "You don't know anything." 

"Then call him! Go on!" Gaston rushed at her suddenly, shoving her to the ground. "Say his name." 

"No!" Belle tumbled away, then scrambled to her feet. She glanced down at the model catapult she had spent so much time assembling. It was broken. She cradled it to her chest. Maybe it could be fixed? "You're horrible. I hate you!" She backed up a few more steps, then whirled and ran away. 

"Stuck-up bitch! No one likes you anyway!" Gaston shouted after her. "Not even the Dark One!" 

* * *

_An accident of birth._

Belle tried not to think about horrible Gaston ( _ghastly Gaston, gruesome Gaston, godawful Gaston,_ her mind unhelpfully supplied) but the one phrase stuck in her head. Was he right about that? What if she had been born in a different family? She could have been a peasant, or a merchant, or a goat herder, or an ogre. Would the Dark One still have made a deal for her? 

She sat in her window nook and stared out at the rain, her book forgotten in her lap. There was a line from her mother's book of songs and prayers: The rain falls on the just and the unjust. 

If you were a raindrop, it was an 'accident of birth' whether you fell on a queen or a beggar or out in the cow pasture, wasn't it? Fairness didn't even enter into it — you just fell and had no choice where you landed. It was different for people. Belle refused to believe that _people_ couldn't change their fates. 

And yet... yet here she was. Why did she even know Gaston? Another accident of birth, that he was an orphan of the right age in the right place and Lord Girard snatched him up, and Lord Girard had a position in the king's court, and Belle was the king's granddaughter. The same was true for all the other children she knew. 

_An accident of birth._

But there were so many people out there. So many realms, so many kingdoms. Even in this town, there were more people than those in the king's keep. Who was to say Belle couldn't find friends outside the royal household? What if they didn't know who she was? 

The next time the weather was fair and she had time to herself, Belle dressed in the oldest, plainest clothes she had in her wardrobe, took a basket of food, and sneaked away to the town. She had been there before, of course, but never by herself. This time, she kept an eye out for any other children of her age. At first she didn't have much luck approaching any of them. It was only when she found a lonely-looking girl sitting on a boulder by the river, near the slow bend where the local women washed their clothes, that Belle managed to make a connection. A shared slice of Cook's special raisin cake eased the initial awkwardness. 

"I'm called Lizzy," said the girl. As it turned out, her mother was a foreign widow, eking out a living as a washerwoman. Lizzy brought in a few more coins by mending clothes. 

"You're really good at that." Belle's fingers felt clumsier just watching the other girl expertly sew on a button. 

"Practice." Lizzy shrugged. She gave Belle a curious glance. "Haven't seen you down here before." 

"Well, I, uh, I thought I'd try something new." Belle picked nervously at the edge of her cloak. "I... I don't have many friends, and, uh, you seemed nice." 

Lizzy snorted. "You don't mind that I'm a foreign heretic?" 

Belle smiled a little. "Oh, well, we can be heretics together. The archbishop doesn't approve of me, either." 

Lizzy's eyebrows rose. "You know the archbishop? I knew you were a toff!" 

"Oh." Belle blushed, having forgotten that she was meant to be undercover. "Maybe." 

"So, what's it like? What do you do for fun?" 

"I read a lot." Belle dug into her basket for the book she had secreted under the food. "Here, this is my favorite. Have you ever read it?" 

Lizzy's face fell. She frowned down at the cover. "I... I don't know how." 

"You don't know how to _read?_ " Belle blurted out, then clapped a hand over her mouth, knowing she must have sounded awfully rude. 

"No." 

Feeling guilty, Belle stuffed the book back into her basket. "I thought there was a school." 

"There is, but it costs gold. Do I look like I have gold?" Lizzy rolled her eyes. 

Belle scrambled up in excitement. "I have gold!" 

"What?" 

Belle fumbled for the gold brooch in her pocket, the one she had taken off her cloak before sneaking out of the keep. It was old, handed down from her mother's family — a circle and pin with the metal worked into a design of interlocking knots — but she was happy to give it to her new friend. "Here, you take it." 

To her shock, Lizzy backed away and stared at her as if Belle had just tried to hand her a dead bird. "I can't..." 

"Why not? You can... can sell it," Belle stammered, wondering what she had done wrong. Would a dead bird have been preferable? At least you could cook it for dinner. But the brooch was worth a hundred dinners! "Don't you want to... the school... it's good to know how to read." 

Lizzy drew herself up proudly. "Maybe. But I'm not a beggar. A bit of cake's one thing, but that's gold. I can't take your gold." 

"Why not?" Bewildered, Belle drew on the stories she had read. "It's my duty. A hero shows charity to the poor." 

"Oh, you're a _hero_ , are you? Doing your duty? Charity? Is that what you I am to you?" 

"I was just trying to help," muttered Belle. 

"Well, maybe I don't want your help." 

"But you're poor! I thought we were friends. Why don't you want my help?" 

"Yeah, I'm poor." Lizzy snatched up Belle's basket and shoved it at her. "That doesn't mean I'm for sale!" 

"I wasn't. I didn't..." Belle's protests sounded feeble in the face of Lizzy's anger. 

"Take it!" Lizzy forced the basket into Belle's chest. "Damned toff, think you can buy everyone. Just... just go away!" 

Dazed, Belle clutched the basket with numb fingers and fled, wondering how everything had gone so wrong. Her head still in a fog, she slipped back to the keep, changing clothes just in time to make it to the class with Lumiere. Gaston was there, but Belle didn't have the energy to spare him more than a silent glare. 

Did Lizzy think Belle was like Gaston? No, no, Gaston was selfish and horrible, and Belle was only trying to help. It was Lizzy who wasn't being reasonable. Maybe it was a lie, an excuse. Maybe Lizzy knew who Belle was all along and was secretly laughing at her, because who would want to be friends with the Dark One's bride? 

She was still brooding about the encounter when class was let out. Lumiere, looking concerned, stopped her before she could leave. 

"Belle, are you all right? Is something on your mind?" 

Belle didn't want to talk about it. "Fine, everything's fine." 

Lumiere looked unconvinced, but finally let her go. By the time she left his house, the other students were already out of sight. And then as she came around a corner, she saw the last person she expected: Lizzy. Belle froze in shock. 

Lizzy was accompanied by two ragged urchins, boys of about the same age as Lizzy or Belle herself — and they did not look friendly. Whispering and laughing among themselves, one of them elbowed Lizzy roughly. "That her, then?" 

Lizzy met Belle's eyes and nodded. "Yeah." 

The other boy took a step forward and ducked his head, tugging his forelock. "Your highness, 'scuse us, we don't mean anything, just that Lizzy here says..." He coughed, then glanced at Lizzy. "Well, go on..." 

The first boy grabbed Lizzy's arm. "Give over, Lizzy. This is stupid." 

Lizzy twisted away, but the boy's grip held. "It's true." She looked at Belle again. "Please, tell them. You wanted me to be your friend, that's all." 

Belle gaped at her. Friend? _Now_ she wanted to be friends? To impress these two boys, whoever they were? Belle opened her mouth, then shut it again, still hurt by the earlier rejection. Finally, she shook her head. "I have no idea who any of you are." She ignored the look of utter betrayal in Lizzy's eyes and walked straight ahead, not turning her head even once. No one followed her. 

That night, Belle found herself unable to sleep. Everything was all mixed up and confusing. Angry one moment, guilty and upset the next, she tossed and turned, seeing in her mind's eye Lizzy's devastated expression, accusing her of something she didn't understand. Belle thought about asking her mother about it, but her mother would be so disappointed in her — she hadn't been much of a hero, had she? 

She slipped out of bed early the next morning and ran to Lumiere's house instead. He made her breakfast, and as they ate, the full story came pouring out, from the incident with Gaston to Belle's venture into town, how she had met Eliza, and then their encounter outside the keep. 

"I don't understand," wailed Belle. "I wanted to be friends, but then she was angry at me and told me to go away, but then why did she come back?" 

Lumiere was slow in answering. He looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment. "I think perhaps this Lizzy, she does not want to be Gaston." 

It was not what Belle had expected to hear, and she could only blurt out in confusion, "She doesn't even know Gaston!" 

"But a person _like_ Gaston, no, she would not want it," Lumiere explained. "Gaston has an education equal to any royal, and why is this? It is because Lord Girard plucked him from the gutter and set him next to his own son, but always, always below him. And for this, he must be grateful, because without Girard, Gaston is nothing." 

"Oh." Belle remembered what Gaston had said, the way he had sounded so resentful of his own fate. 

"This Lizzy, I think she is not one to bend her neck for a chance to be anyone's inferior." 

Belle thought about it and nodded. That was one of the things she had liked about Lizzy. 

"If she took your gold, you would be her patron, not her friend. So you understand now why she refused." 

She did understand. "But it's still not fair that she can't read just because her family's poor." 

"'An accident of birth.'" Lumiere sighed. "Indeed, chance and variation are what life is made from. You know your Lizzy is not the only child of our town whose family cannot afford the school fees. Even if she accepted your gold, it would be chance that you helped her and not another." 

"Then... then..." Belle paused. Did he mean that since it wasn't fair that she helped one person and not another, she shouldn't do it at all? No, that couldn't be right. Besides, Lizzy didn't want her help. It wasn't fair that she should _need_ her help just because of an accident of birth. No one should! "Then we should help all of them. You teach me and the others. Why can't you teach everyone? That would be the right thing to do." 

Lumiere laughed softly, but the flames dancing in his eyes showed that he was pleased. "A little beyond my capabilities, I fear, but that does not mean there is not something we can do." 

"Really?" Belle clapped her hands together in delight. "How do we start?" 

"Well. I think first you must apologize to Lizzy." 

"Oh." Belle's face fell, but she knew Lumiere was right. 

"And then we can talk. Lizzy may not want you to throw your gold at her problems, but it is different if you work together to change what may be changed, as friends and allies." 

As it turned out, the 'allies' included the two boys who had been with Lizzy. They were not her friends, exactly, but children orphaned by the ogres who had no other family except each other, being distant cousins of Lizzy on her father's side. Having seen Lizzy with a stranger, they had questioned her, but not believed her account. Lizzy had not taken well to being called a liar, leading to the three of them accosting Belle outside the keep. 

All three of them looked at Lumiere with something between fear and wonder. For Belle, it was a strange feeling to see him afresh as the 'demon' people called him. The animosity between Lizzy, the two boys, and Belle faded away, overcome by curiosity. 

"Do you make deals?" asked the taller boy, the one called Jacques. 

"I want to be rich!" the other boy, Jean, told Lumiere. "I'll sell you my firstborn." 

Belle looked at Jean in surprise. "You have a firstborn?" 

Lizzy snorted, and Jean looked faintly embarrassed. "Hell, no. And if he carries on like this, he'll never have one!" 

Jacques punched Jean in the arm. "Stupid. _She's_ a princess. _You'd_ be lucky to get a few silvers for any spawn you have." 

"Ah, I am not in the baby trading market." Lumiere headed off that line of discussion. "That's more the Dark One's gig, and even then, Belle was something of a special case." 

At that, the three children turned solemn. Lizzy cleared her throat, "Aye, everyone knows that. The Dark One saved Avonlea, and she was the price." 

"That is true, but it is also true that she is not the only one who paid." Lumiere nodded at the children. "You all three lost family to the ogres." 

"Yeah, and what did we get for it?" Jacques eyed Belle. "Nothing, that's what. 'Cos we're common as dirt, and worth as much." 

Belle's mouth opened then closed on her instinctive protest. 

"You are all human beings," said Lumiere. "And it's time the king remembers that. The king and queen are father and mother to all Avonlea. You have as much right to an education as a child in the royal family." 

"Education? You mean school?" Lizzy looked interested, but Jacques and Jean made disgusted faces. 

"You mean book-learning," said Jean. "Ugh. A lot of useless chicken scratching if you ask me." 

Lumiere looked scandalized. "Writing is a kind of magic. A way of storing knowledge and moving it across time and space, and knowledge is power." 

"Yeah? Can it bring our parents back?" asked Jacques. 

"Well... no. Not even the Dark One can bring back the dead, whole and alive," Lumiere conceded. "But an education is a powerful tool, nonetheless." 

"That's nice and all," said Lizzy, "But what, do we go up to the keep and say 'please, your majesty, we want schooling'?" 

"Exactly," said Lumiere. "But we must choose our time and words correctly, which you would know if only you had a proper education!" 

The king held open court days when he and his council heard petitions from anyone, even commoners and foreigners. Lumiere explained how it worked, writing up a proposal to submit in advance of their hearing. Then came the day, and they all went with Lumiere to the great hall when it was Lumiere's turn to officially present their case. 

It didn't go over well. 

"Ridiculous," scoffed Lord Girard. "What do they need schooling for? It would be wasted on them." 

"And some would say the same of your son," retorted Lumiere. Lord Girard flushed, but Lumiere continued before Girard exploded, "But I am not one of them! Every child deserves a chance, and education gives them a better one, no matter in what family they are born." 

Girard was not the only one who objected. As other voices in the council spoke up, Belle looked at the king, who had mostly been listening so far. She wondered if she should say something, but fear froze her tongue. All those people were watching and listening. Her parents were there! What if she said something wrong? Maybe it would be better if Lizzy or one of the boys spoke up first, since they were the ones whose lives would be most affected. Then she felt ashamed. If even Belle, who was the king's granddaughter, was afraid, then how could she expect the others to be braver? 

"...lazy gutter rats, your majesty," the archbishop's tone was even more dismissive than Lord Girard's. "The honest hard-working folk of our kingdom already have their own schools, their own system of apprenticeships. This is the way it has always been, and to change it would only invite turmoil..." 

Belle couldn't take it anymore. "They are not lazy! Lizzy works harder than anyone. They don't have money for school or an apprenticeship, because their families were killed by ogres!" 

The archbishop turned his glare to Colette, deliberately ignoring Belle. "Lady Colette, control your daughter." 

Belle shrank back, not daring to look at her mother. She hadn't told her what they were planning, had wanted to do it herself without relying on her parents' influence. 

"You would have me silence her, your grace?" Colette's reply started softly, but gradually gained force. "She has as much right to petition the court as anyone, and she does so with wisdom and kindness. She honors the teachings of the gods. As her mother, I say to you that I am proud of her and I stand with her in this." 

Belle's head lifted in shock. She met her mother's gaze, seeing a smile there. Then she glanced at her father, who looked less happy, but at least he didn't speak out against her. 

The archbishop then turned to appeal directly to the king. "Do you make policy based on the counsel of demons, your majesty? I warn you, to do so is to condemn your kingdom to darkness!" 

"On the contrary, learning enlightens the kingdom," came Lumiere's rejoinder. "The kingdom is the people. The betterment of your citizens is to the benefit of all." 

"They will get ideas above their station. This demon would incite insurrection!" 

Lumiere snorted. "A king afraid of the strength of his own people is no king at all." 

The debate continued, taking turns that Belle couldn't quite follow, but in the end, the king ruled in favor of Lumiere's proposal, allowing him to establish a new school system in the capital that was open to all, allocating limited funding and land, and granting authority to hire staff. 

"Well, it's a beginning," Lumiere told them afterwards. He had found another of his own kind from somewhere to oversee the new school. "This is Hora. She has kindly agreed to stop the skulking in the woods and will lend us her talents." 

"'Retired', Lumiere, not 'skulking'," corrected Hora. Unlike Lumiere, she seemed to spend most of her time in human form. 

Lumiere waved a claw. "It is all the same. Now, I have sent word to the Dark One. We must have books, papers, supplies!" 

"Another teacher or two. And a cook." Hora looked at the two boys, who had worn a perpetually hungry expression since Belle had met them. "I think your school will have to feed their bodies as well as their minds. Who can learn well on an empty stomach?" 

"Fine, fine, as you say." 

Their school was converted from an old inn. To Belle's disappointment, the Dark One did not personally show up to help Lumiere. Instead, he sent two griffons and another Timer with books, all magically transported into the courtyard in a billow of purple smoke. 

"This is Cogsworth," said Lumiere. "He and the griffons selected a few books for us to start with." 

A few? Belle's mouth dropped open. This was "a few"? It was more than she had ever seen in one place before. 

"Eskereye," said Cogsworth, indicating the black griffon with the gleaming red eyes. The other one was golden white with a green crest and mane. "And Otulissa." 

While the other children were gaping at the griffons, Belle headed straight for the piles of books. "We'll need new shelves!" Then she began leafing through them, and gasped at what she saw. They were all perfectly scribed. How long had it taken? "I didn't think there were enough clerics in the world to copy so many books!" 

Someone chuffed in amusement next to her. Belle startled, head jerking around to see the griffon, Otulissa, peering over her shoulder, eyes a startling emerald green. 

Cogsworth cleared his throat. "Perhaps you can explain the printing press to her, Lumiere." 

"Printing press?" asked Belle. 

"Yes. The Dark One brought it back to his land from another realm," explained Cogsworth. "Are you familiar with woodcut printing, where an artist carves an image into a block of wood, which then can be inked and pressed into paper to produce multiple copies of that image?" 

Belle nodded, but it seemed like an awful lot of work to carve so many pages! 

"The printing press is a machine that uses metal blocks, small ones that can be arranged and rearranged to make all the words that are in a page," said Lumiere. "A miraculous invention, no?" 

Belle nodded again. She looked at the books in wonder. "I haven't even heard of most of these before!" 

Lumiere chuckled. "I believe that is the work of the griffons. They, too, travel between the realms, and they have a passion for books." 

Belle couldn't help but look skeptically at them. Griffons could read? And with the heads of eagles and the paws of lions, how did they even turn the pages without ripping them up? 

_Easy._

Before Belle could figure out where that voice had come from, the griffon called Otulissa dissolved into a sparkling cloud, out of which she emerged as a tiny griffon no bigger than a kitten. Belle watched in amazement as Otulissa sauntered over to the books and deftly flipped it open, having no trouble manipulating the pages with her claws. Emerald eyes blinked smugly at Belle. 

"Wow," said Lizzy. "I thought only fairies could turn small like that." 

"Maybe they're cat fairies," suggested Jean. 

Jacques smirked. "Looks like we have our work cut out for us, if a bunch of kitty-cat birds can read better than we can." 

"Hmmph." Belle looked at the little griffon, sensing a challenge. "We'll see about that." 

_Guess we will._

This time Belle could tell the words came from the griffon, though she didn't hear anything beyond a soft purr when Otulissa came over, rubbing against Belle's leg just like an ordinary cat. Belle reached down and scratched gingerly at Otulissa's head, the feathers soft under her fingers. 

_Yes,_ said Otulissa, though Belle wasn't aware of having asked a question. _Yes, I think I'll stay._

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Sexual assault, violence. Starts after the point where they go to the library.

* * *

Belle enjoyed a bit of a popularity boost among the children of the royal household when she came home with a tiny griffon sitting on her shoulder (sometimes her head). It made a change from living under the shadow of the Dark One's fearsome reputation, since the griffon was too fluffy and harmless looking to inspire anything except a desire to make silly noises or feed it snacks. 

Belle decided not to tell them that Otulissa, at full size, was big enough to devour an entire sheep, or maybe even a cow, not to mention a human. At least now Belle didn't have to worry about finding enough meat to keep the griffon happy. 

_The Dark One used to complain about me and my sister eating him out of house and home,_ Otulissa told her, _until we figured out how to size ourselves for this realm. Up in the land above the clouds, everything is bigger. The two-legs, too._

"You mean giants?" 

_Yeah._

Belle found it a little strange that she was the only human who could understand the griffon's speech, but Lumiere explained that it had to do with the crystal pendant the Dark One had given to her before she was born. With two-way conversation being off the table, the other children regarded Otulissa as some kind of exotic pet. A clever pet, but still an animal. 

"Maybe you can use some kind of sign language," Belle suggested at one point. 

_Maybe._ Otulissa shrugged. _If I ever want to talk to them, maybe I'll consider it._

The novelty wore off eventually, and Belle went back to being the odd bookworm with odd friends in low places. She felt insulted on behalf of said friends, but there wasn't much she could do about what was said behind her back. 

When Belle was twelve, her uncle Yves was married to a princess from the neighboring kingdom. The wedding was held in Avonlea, with a big celebration that spilled out of the keep and took over the whole capital. Belle was swept up in the pageant along with the rest of the royal house, wearing the clothes laid out for her and standing next to her mother and chiming in as required for the blessings to the new couple. Lumiere was nowhere to be seen, of course. Otulissa watched the proceedings from a rooftop, and Belle was a little envious. She didn't like crowds and only bore with it for her uncle's sake. 

_A lot of noise and fuss,_ Otulissa remarked later, echoing Belle's reaction. Belle had retreated into a secluded corner of the royal garden, listening to the quiet buzz of insects until her ears stopped ringing from the wedding celebration. _You people are so strange. First you announce as loudly as possible to as many people as possible your plans to take a mate. Then you hide yourselves away and only do your mating in secret where no one can see!_

Belle blushed. "Well, maybe not me personally. I mean, I'm not even old enough and I don't know if the Dark One will want a big wedding..." 

Otulissa chortled, a low hoarse squawking sound. _Ah, well, maybe not for himself. He might arrange it for you, if you wanted one. You never know with him._

"Me?" Belle blanched. Her uncle's wedding had been enough of an ordeal. She couldn't imagine herself at the center of such a spectacle. Though perhaps it would help as a distraction from what came after — the 'mating' as Otulissa put it. "Gods. I wonder what that's like. Maybe it's better to be like you griffons... at least everyone would know what to expect." 

_What do you mean?_

Belle glanced around to make sure there was no one to overhear, then said in a low voice, "You know. The _mating_. Have you ever...?" 

_No. My sister and I, we're exiles. Not much chance of that for us._

"Oh. Right. I'm sorry." Belle had half-known that already, but hadn't thought about the implications before. "Maybe someday you'll be able to go back?" 

_Maybe._ Otulissa shrugged, shaking out her wings before settling down again in Belle's lap. _It's no matter._

Belle sighed, knowing Otulissa didn't want to talk about it. She tried to cheer her friend up, jokingly asking, "Does that mean you don't know any more than me about this _mating_ thing? If you've never seen others of your kind do it?" 

Otulissa squeaked indignantly. _Griffons know what they need to know. Unlike humans._ Then she turned emerald eyes to Belle. _But I thought that governess of yours taught you._

Belle made a face, confessing, "Miss Elinore was a little vague, actually." 

Otulissa brightened, tail twitching mischievously. _As to that, there are books. If you want to see..._

Belle never refused books. Of course she wanted to see them! 

She _almost_ regretted it when, a week later, Otulissa dropped them on her bed and she flipped through one at random, only to see illustrations that made her squirm in embarrassment. She couldn't help blurting out, "Wow. Do people really do _that?_ It looks so awkward." 

Otulissa, who was standing on the bed across from Belle, peered at the page, then craned her head around so it wasn't upside down, not that it seemed to make much difference. _You lot, you're basically bald apes. You always look awkward no matter what you're doing. But it's not your fault you don't have the natural grace of a griffon. If you're lucky, someday you'll learn to shapeshift into something more elegant!_

Belle shot her a look. "Hmph." She peeked at the pictures again. It was obviously no use asking Otulissa about it. She wondered what Lizzy would say. Lizzy had never had a governess, but growing up in town, maybe she was more knowledgeable about worldly matters. Belle closed the book and tucked it up her sleeve, hiding the rest in the old wooden chest under her bed. Then she headed out, thinking she should have just enough time to sneak into town to see Lizzy before anyone missed her. 

In her distraction, Belle wasn't paying enough attention to where she was going, and rushed around a corner only to collide with her governess. 

Belle tripped and tumbled to the ground. Worse luck, the book flew out of her sleeve and fell open on a particularly scandalous illustration. Belle scrambled forward with a frantic cry of "Miss Elinore! I'm so sorry!" hoping to reach the book first, but it was too late. 

Miss Elinore's face turned purple in outrage. One claw-like hand snatched up the offending book while the other seized Belle by the ear. "Little slut! I should have known you'd have your hands on filth like this!" 

Belle was too shocked to mount any kind of defense as her governess dragged her to Lady Colette's chambers, scolding her furiously the whole way. She could only stand there, numb tears rolling down her cheeks, as Miss Elinore presented the evidence of Belle's depravity to her mother. 

Colette gave the book only a cursory glance before shutting it again hastily. She looked at Belle and said faintly, "Oh, my goodness. Wherever did you find this?" 

Belle couldn't meet her mother's gaze (disappointed, she was sure) and bit her lip, not wanting to betray Otulissa. What if her mother tried to send the griffon away? It wasn't fair. She had only been trying to help. 

"No doubt it was that demon tutor," said Miss Elinore. "It was only a matter of time before he tried to corrupt her mind." 

Belle shook her head at that. She wanted to defend Lumiere, but didn't dare make things worse. 

Once it became clear Belle wasn't going to admit to anything, Colette sighed. She banished her daughter to her room for the rest of the day, with Miss Elinore as her jailor. "I need to have a word with Lumiere." 

* * *

Lumiere should have known the griffon would be trouble. He didn't even need to touch the book Lady Colette accused him with to know where it must have come from. The lingering trace of Otulissa's magic was as good as a signature scrawled across the cover. 

He listened as she accused him of corrupting her daughter, of teaching her inappropriate knowledge. Lumiere couldn't let that go uncontested. "Surely, Lady Colette, you do not wish her to remain in ignorance forever. Ignorance will only be to her detriment." 

"I had her governess instruct her in womanly matters," Colette argued, "as is appropriate for a daughter of the royal house of Avonlea." 

"So perhaps this book is more, ah, detailed than you expected, yet it does not lie or deceive. More knowledge will not harm her. These notions of propriety were made to benefit those who would trade in others' fates by controlling the victims of this trade." Lumiere saw the understanding in Colette's eyes, and pressed on, "Your daughter is such a victim, despite your best intentions. That being so, knowledge may lessen her fear upon meeting her fate, and is that not to the good?" 

"Is it? She is only a child," Colette said softly, sadness barely hidden under a mask of ladylike tranquility. "We should preserve her innocence." 

"But she is old enough to ask the questions. Does she not deserve answers? Is it wrong to tell her the truth?" 

"Not exactly wrong, but to lay everything out so coldly on the pages of a book! Some things are meant to be a mystery, discovered together between lovers." 

"Ah, you are a romantic." Lumiere couldn't help but smile at the thought. Her daughter took after her in this, and not her more pragmatic father. But pragmatic or not, he was one of those who felt entitled to exert power over the women in his life, and thus even more likely to enforce 'propriety' on his daughter. "As for your husband..." 

Colette sighed. "There's no need to disturb him with this matter." 

"Exactly." 

Colette gave him a defeated look. "What's done is done. Gods willing, she may still find a way to defy her fate!" 

Lumiere didn't have the heart to argue with her on that. What mother wouldn't hope to free her daughter from the Dark One? 

* * *

To Belle's relief, her mother, after talking to Lumiere, didn't try to confiscate the books. Miss Elinore was as disapproving as ever, but Belle's mother must have said something to her, as the governess never actually acted on her disapproval. Even so, Belle took care not to flaunt the books anywhere the adults could see, and hid them where her little sister wouldn't find them. 

_See what I mean about secrecy?_ Otulissa seemed amused by the whole matter, not caring at all about the trouble she had brought down onto Belle's head. _Everyone knows and pretends they don't._

Lizzy, Jacques, and Jean were even more amused, all three of them rolling about laughing when Belle showed them her new books. The boys made crude jokes to which Lizzy just rolled her eyes so hard that Belle almost regretted sharing the books. 

"No, no, finally I see why you like books so much," declared Jacques, hand over his heart in mock sincerity. "All that learning put to good use!" 

Jean shook his head, admiring the quality of the illustrations and binding. "This is what toffs do with their money? Damn." 

"It's educational!" Belle insisted, but she couldn't help blushing. "Never mind. Here, give it back." 

Lumiere ended up incorporating some of the material into his lessons, much to the distress of the more hide-bound parents, but once the knowledge was out there, no one wanted their own child to be at a disadvantage compared to the others, so they grumbled outwardly while not doing anything to stop Lumiere. More disturbing to him were the stories and misinformation that had already been passed to his students by their older friends and family. 

"No, no, no. You cannot be believing this nonsense!" Lumiere went off on one of his tirades about discerning truth from lies from wishful thinking. It went beyond the details of human biology to all the deceptions big and small that people used to manipulate each other. 

Belle had heard it often enough, and now he lectured all his students on the dangers of believing things uncritically. 

"People will tell you this is true, this is false, this is good, this is evil, this is the hero, this is the villain, but no, no, no, you must always look behind the flapping mouth to understand who is telling you this and why!" 

"But how can we know?" someone asked. 

"If you don't know, you must find out. Look for those who have experience, those who do know from their own eyes and ears, and there seek your answers," Lumiere told them. "Look to the world itself. Everything and everyone has its reasons for what they do. Don't make the mistake of assuming you already know! Your beliefs do not dictate the facts (except in certain realms where magic is strong); rather, let the facts dictate your beliefs." 

_Facts_ , Belle thought gloomily. The fact was that she was already betrothed to the Dark One. No amount of research or reading could change that. Then she wondered if _he_ had read the books Otulissa had brought to Belle, and if he had, what he thought of them. She tried to imagine him being as silly about it as Jean and Jacques. But no, he was hundreds of years old, not an idiot boy... 

Otulissa had once found her a book about the history of the Dark Ones. It began some five hundred years ago and ended with Rumplestiltskin. It didn't say much about his personal life, whether he had loved anyone or anything like that. Remembering Lumiere's admonition to keep in mind the teller of the tale, Belle wasn't surprised. The author had been a prince of the Enchanted Forest kingdom, someone who had only been interested in the Dark One as a power in the realm, variously useful or dangerous to a ruler. 

More surprisingly, there was no record of Rumplestiltskin ever making a deal for a wife before. For a child, yes, taking from one family to give to another, that he had done often enough that he was legendary for trading in first-borns. But never for himself. If everyone had their reasons, then why would the Dark One make a deal for her? Perhaps someday she could ask him. 

Meanwhile, Belle looked into other books for the more mundane reasons people bound themselves to each other. Her mother's library had mostly been limited to holy scriptures, religious tracts, hagiographies, and other exemplary tales. Romance novels came as a revelation. The griffons had collected them from other realms and brought them to Avonlea. Even though the stories took place in foreign lands and societies, those were not so different from Avonlea that Belle couldn't recognize the characters as people. She devoured story after story of couples meeting and falling in love in a hundred different ways. There were even ones where the woman had been sold off in an arranged marriage, yet somehow still managed to find true love in the end with her husband. 

"It could happen to me, right?" Belle sought support from Lizzy. 

Lizzy shook her head. "I don't know, Belle. I mean, he's basically a demon..." 

Belle waved the cover of a book with the title "Her Demon Bridegroom" at her friend. 

"Yeah, but that's just a story. The kind the clerics call 'blasphemous' — don't let the archbishop see you with that! Whatever. I wouldn't get my hopes up if I was you." 

"Well, it's better than wallowing in despair," muttered Belle. 

"You toffs expect too much. A marriage isn't just a marriage, no, you gotta save the whole damn kingdom with it. Love isn't just love, no, it's gotta be bloody _true_ love, even if it's with someone else's wife..." 

"There isn't that much true love in the royal houses," Belle admitted. "My uncle likes his wife well enough, but it was still arranged for the sake of the alliance." 

Lizzy waved a hand, as if to say "There you go, then!" 

"All right, but I think it's sad." 

* * *

When Belle was sixteen, she realized that there were worse people she could have been sold to than the Dark One. That had been obvious, once she had learned from Lizzy the things that could befall a commoner who had no money or family to protect her, but as a royal daughter, Belle was insulated from those dangers at least. Other dangers didn't occur to her until Gaston began taking notice of her again. 

She found his gaze lingering on her long enough to discomfort her. His face held a hot and hungry intent that made his handsome features almost ugly. Gaston looked at Belle as a hunter might look at his quarry. At first she told herself she was imagining it. After all, Gaston had plenty of the local girls eager to gain his favor. Why would he want Belle? But when he accosted her after a class with the Royal Tutor, she could no longer deny his interest. 

He beckoned to her to wait, flashing a gleaming smile at her. "Hey, Belle. Walk with me, will you? I need to talk to you." 

"Uh..." Belle, who had been daydreaming about the novel she was currently reading, was too slow to come up with an excuse not to talk to Gaston. She looked around for anyone else, but found only Michel, Gaston's perennial sidekick. 

"Just you and me." Gaston grinned and reached for Belle's arm. 

"Wait." She flinched back, glancing desperately past Gaston to Michel, and was struck by the deep unhappiness on his face. LeFou played the clown in front of everyone, but for one brief moment, the mask of the amiable dimwit shattered. Even as Belle wanted to ask him about it, Michel shook his head, re-assembling his customary smile as he turned away. She sighed. "Fine. What did you want to talk about?" 

"Us, of course!" Gaston gestured grandly, indicating the two of them. "And our future together." 

"We have a future together?" Belle could hardly believe what she was hearing. As Gaston loomed over her, she began to feel alarmed. "You know I'm already betrothed. I'm leaving Avonlea when I come of age." 

"Pfff." Gaston waved off her objection airily. "You won't have to leave if you marry me first." 

" _Marry_ you?" Belle said the next thing that came into her head, "I thought you liked Marceline." 

"Oh, she's not bad as far as that goes, but her father would never allow it, not when Lord Girard is after her for his own son." 

Remembering Gaston's plan from all those years ago, Belle stared at him. "You're not still planning to murder Michel, are you?" 

Gaston laughed heartily. "Don't be silly. We were just stupid kids then." 

"Right." Belle bit back the thought that he hadn't improved in intelligence in the years since. 

"Anyway, you're prettier than your cousin." 

"Oh. Ah, thanks." Clearly she wouldn't be able to scare him off by invoking the Dark One. Then she remembered what he had said about Marceline. "But my father would never allow it." 

"You're wrong. He already has." 

"What? What did you say?" Belle staggered back in real shock. "No. No, you're lying!" When Gaston reached out for her, she darted away. "This conversation is over!" 

Gaston laughed darkly, but didn't follow her this time. "Go on, ask him if you don't believe me." 

Otulissa flew down from a nearby roof and landed on Belle's arm. _You're shaking. I don't like that boy._

"He said, he said my father gave him permission to court me," whispered Belle. "My father never mentioned... No. It can't, it can't be true." 

But it was. When Belle confronted her father, he was only angry that Belle had not immediately accepted Gaston's suit. 

"He can save you from that demon, my girl. Once you're wedded and bedded, the Dark One will have to renegotiate the price," Maurice told her. "You'll be free." 

"I'll hardly be _free_ if you force me to marry Gaston! You didn't even ask me what I wanted!" 

"No need to get so excited, love," said Maurice. "Why wouldn't you want him? I know he's a commoner, but no one of higher birth is going to offer for you given the circumstances. But don't fret. That lad has a bright future ahead of him, given half a chance." 

"And I'm that chance, am I?" Belle lowered her voice with an effort. "What is he getting out of this, anyway?" 

"He'll be well rewarded. A barony isn't out of the question." 

"My grandfather approves?" 

Maurice shrugged. "Once it's done, he'll understand it's for the best. His majesty has an old man's caution, and needs us to take action when it's necessary." 

"And you think breaking a deal with Rumplestiltskin is what Avonlea needs?" Belle shook her head. "He saved us all. You made a promise! What about honor?" 

"He's a monster. He extorted that promise from our people when we were desperate, and a promise made under duress isn't real." Maurice leaned forward, his face darkening. He hissed, "That beast ruined my life. I would have been king if not for his damned deal. It's only right that he know what it is to lose something." 

Belle winced. She cast about for anything her father might listen to. "But I'm too young to marry anyone." 

Maurice glowered. "The archbishop agreed to it. He'll give you a special dispensation and officiate the ceremony once your soul has been purified. The Dark One has meddled enough in the affairs of Avonlea!" 

"And what does Mother think?" Belle fought back tears, knowing they wouldn't sway her father. "Did she agree to this, too?" 

"She is a woman. She's too soft-hearted to see this through, but she'll come around, once it's done. Gaston is a fine young man, a good match for you, sweetling. You'll see." 

Belle opened and shut her mouth. It was useless to argue. Her father had already made up his mind. 

But then, her mother had sold her before she was even born. The thought came to her that night, turning over and over in her head until she couldn't sleep. How was that different from her father selling her to Gaston, ostensibly to save her? Hadn't her mother also been trying to save her? She knew her mother wouldn't have agreed for anything less. To save her life, to save her family, to save Avonlea, her mother had decided Belle's fate without asking her, but only because she had no real choice. 

Her father did have a choice. It was one thing to sell her body and her future for the lives of the kingdom, but another to trade her for Gaston's ambition or her father's resentment. Belle had already lost one choice; she refused to lose it again, and her honor, for the sake of selfishness. 

She knew what her father or Gaston thought to gain, but what about the Dark One? Unlike her uncle Yves, Belle didn't come with any political advantage since her father had been disinherited. She remembered what she had read: the Dark One had apparently been alone for hundreds of years. Alone? Could he be lonely? So lonely that he had finally made a deal for a wife? Because this was the only way he could find someone to marry him? 

He could be far worse than Gaston. 

He had still saved the lives of everyone Belle knew. 

Gaston was human, at least. 

Did that matter? Lumiere wasn't human. Otulissa wasn't human. Belle sighed and turned again, trying to quiet her thoughts and fall asleep. It was a long, uneasy night. 

* * *

"Hey, Belle. Listen, about the other day, we got off on the wrong foot." Gaston caught her again after class. 

Belle eyed him warily. "Yes." 

"Let me make it up to you." 

"How?" 

"You always have your nose in a book, but have you ever seen Lord Girard's library?" 

"No." She knew that Girard was wealthy and liked to show off his wealth, but he had always disapproved of Belle (or rather, her association with the Dark One) so she had never been welcome at his house, even though his son was near her age and ran in the same circle of nobleborn children. "He has a library?" 

"It was his grandfather who was the collector, but Lord Girard's kept it going. Anyway, he has things no one else has. Rare, older than anything. Things banned by the Church. Things no one else has read in ages. But you could." 

"What things, exactly?" Curiosity piqued, Belle put aside her dislike of Gaston for the moment. 

"I don't know. Only LeFou's seen them. Oh, and your cousin. That's why he snuck into the place, the little fool was trying to impress her." 

"Marceline?" Belle suddenly blazed with envy. "She doesn't even really like to read. She..." She swallowed the rest, ashamed to be speaking ill of her cousin behind her back. Then she was annoyed at Gaston for trying to manipulate her. 

Gaston shrugged. "Well, LeFou knows how much you like books, so he said he could sneak us into the library, if you want." 

"So you can try to talk me into marrying you." Belle was under no illusions about Gaston's motivation, but she was still tempted. Just a peek at whatever rare books Lord Girard kept locked away. What harm could it do? 

"Give us a chance, Belle," Gaston wheedled, smiling in what he no doubt thought was a winning fashion. "You'll see I'm right." 

Belle didn't want to, but was she being unfair? Now that she realized her father really had given his blessing to Gaston, she thought maybe she had been rude in running away before. Instead of being angry at her, Gaston was here making an effort to cater to Belle's interest. She could at least take the time to refuse Gaston properly. (And get a look at the library while she was at it!) "But still, it wouldn't look right, me sneaking away with you. People will talk." 

"Let them talk. But you can bring that governess of yours if you're so worried." 

Belle nodded. With Miss Elinore as a chaperone, propriety was sure to be maintained at least. "All right." 

They all met at Lord Girard's mansion on a day when he was busy with the council and the lady of the house had gone into town with all her attendants. Michel brandished the library key with a nervous flourish. Belle suspected that he didn't have his father's permission for any of this. 

Belle kept her suspicions quiet, but it made her nervous as well. And when neither Michel nor Miss Elinore followed them into the library, Belle looked at Gaston in surprise. 

Gaston chuckled. "It's all right. They'll stand watch down the corridor and make sure no one catches us where we aren't supposed to be." 

"Oh." Suspicion confirmed, Belle wondered how he had talked her governess into agreeing to that, but Otulissa chose that moment to fling herself off Belle's shoulder and disappear into the rows of shelves. It was an impressive collection, she admitted to herself. 

"Hey, where'd your pet go? If that creature damages anything in here, Lord Girard will have our hides!" 

"No, no, she won't," Belle reassured him hastily. "Otulissa has more appreciation for books than most humans." 

"Got her well-trained, huh?" Gaston chuckled, obviously humoring Belle. 

Belle didn't bother to correct him. She scanned the titles visible on the spines, trying to get a feel for the organization, wanting to get the most out of her visit. She only listened with half an ear as Gaston rambled on about his desirability as a husband. 

"He's an ugly old monster. You deserve better," Gaston was saying. "Someone strong. The Dark One is weak, under all that magic. A coward. I've heard rumors, Belle. You don't want someone like him." 

"It doesn't mean I want _you_ ," Belle said in exasperation. She pulled out one of the books. "Oh, this looks interesting..." 

Gaston tugged at her arm. "Come with me. I know one you'll _really_ like. It has your precious gods and heroes as you've never seen them before." 

Belle blinked, sliding the book back and letting herself be drawn after Gaston. "What do you mean?" 

He smirked at her. "Oh, Belle, you don't need to pretend. We all know what kind of books you 'read'." 

"Wait, what?" Belle flushed, trying to keep her mind from going into the gutter, hoping Gaston didn't mean what she thought he meant. 

"Here, look at this." Gaston opened a cabinet and pulled out one of the scrolls, handing it to Belle. 

She unrolled it onto a nearby desk, feeling the distinctive buzz of a preservation spell on the parchment. Her eyes widened as took in the contents, clearly visible even in the dim, indirect light in the library. The images on the scroll were very old and very explicit. Belle gasped. Was that meant to be Zeus? And some ancient queen? Everyone knew about the demigods, but this was the first time she had seen their... origins... so graphically depicted. 

Even as she stared in horrified fascination, Gaston had come up close behind her, close enough to whisper in her ear, "See? I know what you really want. The others are too scared to give it to you, but I'm different." 

She opened her mouth to protest, but the sound was muffled as Gaston's meaty hand clapped firmly over her face, holding her in place. 

"Shhh," he crooned. "No need to say anything." 

Belle froze in shock, suddenly aware that Gaston truly was much bigger and much stronger than she was. She had always known, in theory, but the reality of it overwhelmed her. No one had ever laid a hand on her before, and she could hardly believe it was happening now. Before she knew what was happening, he maneuvered her body as easily as one of his animal carcasses onto the desk, pushing the scroll aside. She felt a pang as it hit the ground, hoping distantly that it wouldn't be damaged. 

Then Gaston was pulling up her skirt and shoving himself between her legs, and it was far too real. Belle struggled to get out from beneath him, crying out at him to stop, but he was far too heavy. He silenced her with a bruising kiss forceful enough to knock her head back against the desk. 

Panic rose in her chest. Belle flailed frantically at him, but had no leverage to strike him with any force. If only she had acted quicker, if she had realized sooner, if only, if only it wasn't too late. Her terror sharpened to a point, a point that burst in a flare of light. 

Purple lightning shot out from the crystal she wore around her neck, lightning that arced into Gaston. 

He yelled hoarsely, his grip suddenly weakening as his limbs spasmed and he staggered backwards away from Belle. 

_The protection spell! Mother said he had enchanted the pendant._ Belle leaped away, clutching at the crystal, trembling in relief. She watched Gaston recover his balance, his face darkening as he took a step forward. "Stay back!" 

"That little thing?" sneered Gaston. "Nice try, but the archbishop gave me something better." He dangled a chain from his fingers, some kind of amulet that glowed as it absorbed the lightning from Belle's crystal. He advanced another step. "Don't worry, it'll be over soon, and once you've had the taste of a real man, the Dark One's hold on you will be broken." 

Belle retreated again, until her back hit one of the shelves. "You can't be serious. Don't do this! You can still stop, I won't tell anyone..." 

Gaston grinned lasciviously. "Oh, you can tell whoever you like, once you're my wife." 

"Never!" Belle braced herself for a fight. She couldn't let him pin her down again. If she could get in a kick, or grab him where it would hurt the most— 

A deafening screech filled the library, then a flurry of wings. Otulissa, expanding mid-air to full size, swooped down onto Gaston, taking him to the ground before anyone could react. A moment later, the griffon was in the air again, shrinking before she hit the ceiling, and Gaston was screaming in pain, ripped open from face to groin, holding his entrails in with his hands. 

Belle stared in horror, torn between an impulse to flee and guilt at the idea of leaving him to die, though part of her couldn't help thinking that he deserved it. As she stood frozen, the doors of the library burst open, Michel rushing in a step ahead of Miss Elinore. 

"Gaston!" Michel spared Belle an appalled glance before dropping next to his friend. Gaston's screams devolved into agonized whimpers, but if he said anything, Belle didn't hear it. 

"Wh-what have you done?" Miss Elinore stammered, choking on whatever admonishment she had originally intended for Belle. 

Michel glared at the governess and snapped, "Fetch a healer! Quickly!" 

For once at a loss for words, Miss Elinore barely managed a nod before fleeing the scene. 

Michel turned back to Gaston, a twisted smile on his face. "So much for 'Why can't you be more like Gaston,' eh? No, thanks." Gaston lay limp and unresponsive in Michel's grip, eyes closed. 

Belle swallowed. "Is... is he dead?" 

"Not yet. The spell on the amulet..." Then Michel lifted his gaze to Belle. "What do you care?" 

Belle flinched. 

"Go away," hissed Michel. "Don't come back." 

"You knew what he was going to do." Belle finally found her tongue again. "You... you could have stopped him." Or maybe he couldn't. She knew what Gaston was like. "But you knew. You could have said something to someone. To Lumiere. To me." 

Michel didn't look at her. 

"Damn you." Or maybe he was already damned. Suddenly the library seemed suffocating, and she could think of nothing except running back to her room. Behind her, she heard a whoosh of wings, but didn't turn to look. 

* * *

"Did you know what he was going to do to me?" Belle felt sick to her stomach, but she had to know. She had found her parents and told them everything. Now she stood before them in accusation, fists clenched at her sides. 

"Belle..." Maurice looked at her with a mixture of pity and frustration. "I only want what's best for you." 

Colette looked horrified at the words. "You mean, it's true, what she said?" 

"It's all true," said Belle dully. 

"You set Gaston on her?" 

"We have to think of her future, love," Maurice said placatingly. "Gaston went a little too far, but he's young, hot-blooded. He'll settle once he's older." 

"If he survives," Colette said. Then her tone shifted from soft to furious. "How could you do that to her?" 

"I didn't mean... he shouldn't have had to force the issue!" Maurice looked at Belle. "I thought you had better sense than to cling to a damned demon when you could have a decent boy like Gaston." 

"I told you I didn't want him." 

Colette wrapped her arms around Belle. "Oh, Belle. I'm so sorry." 

Belle accepted the embrace stiffly, fighting back a sob. 

"Don't coddle her, Colette," said Maurice, an angry edge to his tone. "This is doing her no good. Look, if Gaston lives, we still have a chance to salvage this..." 

Belle twisted free of her mother. "I'll never accept Gaston!" 

"Then what?" roared Maurice. "You'd rather be the Dark One's whore?" 

Speechless with shock, Belle shook her head one last time at her father, then fled. 

* * *

The walls closed in oppressively, but Belle couldn't bring herself to set foot outside her chambers that night. Her little sister brought her a tray of food as well as the gossip circulating in the keep. 

"They're saying Gaston was overcome by your unnatural beauty—" 

"My _what?_ " 

"—and attacked you in a fit of passion, only to be struck down by the Dark One's wrath." 

Belle scoffed bitterly. 

"Lord Girard is furious. They say he's threatened to have Gaston hanged. It means exile at the least. So you'll be avenged." 

Belle sighed, not having the heart to tell Sylvie that Gaston hadn't been alone. She picked at her food after her sister had gone, telling herself she couldn't hide in here forever. 

_Do you want him to die?_ asked Otulissa. The griffon curled up next to Belle, offering what comfort she could. 

Belle thought about it, then shook her head. 

_He hurt you._

"And we hurt him. I don't want to kill people," Belle decided. "Not even Gaston." She pushed the tray away and drew up her legs, hugging herself around the knees. "Five years until the Dark One takes me." She looked at the griffon. "They're my five years. I won't let people like Gaston take them away from me." 

_What will you do?_

"I'm sick of reading about things. I want adventures of my own." Belle slid off the bed as the idea seized her. She started packing what she thought of as her 'adventurer's bag'. Once she was done, she scribbled a note and handed it to the griffon. "Get this to Lizzy, would you?" 

_All right. I can tell Lumiere, too._

"Don't," said Belle sharply. 

_He's supposed to protect you!_

"Well, he didn't, did he?" 

It wasn't as easy to shake off her mother, who also hadn't protected her, but still managed to catch up to Belle at the stable gate. 

"Please, darling." Colette grabbed the reins of her daughter's horse. "You can't leave Avonlea!" 

"I can't stay!" Belle shut her eyes for a moment. She couldn't. Not one day more. Not after her father's betrayal. "I can't. Just... just look after my friends, please. I'm sorry. I have to go." 

Colette nodded finally. Her hand dropped back to her side. "I'm sorry, too. Go with my love." 

Belle swallowed her tears. "Good bye, Mother." 


	8. Chapter 8

Rumplestiltskin knew at once when one of his protection spells was triggered. Especially _that_ one, the one shielding the princess supposedly so crucial to his future (the future in which Bae survived beyond their reunion). It was a long, tense moment when he felt his magic lashing out, meeting unexpectedly powerful resistance, but his spell prevailed. Belle was safe, for now. 

His eyes opened again only to find Regina glowering at him. She had noticed his distraction and took offense at being neglected. 

"If this is your idea of teaching, perhaps I'm the one who needs someone more _dedicated_ ," sneered Regina. 

"Difficult as the concept may be for you, other people exist, and other matters require my attention beyond your needs." Rumplestiltskin tossed off his reply absently. He waved off her complaints, spinning on his heel to give himself time to think. 

"What other people?" Suspicion sharpened her tone. 

"You know, _people!_ It's a big world out there, dearie." Rumplestiltskin was tempted to go immediately to Avonlea to find out who had been foolish enough to threaten his princess, but this was a critical point in Regina's education. He had only just succeeded in luring her down his dark path. Given too much time alone with her own thoughts, Regina might still repent and turn away from vengeance and magic. If that happened, she would never become the curse caster destined to reunite Rumplestiltskin with his son. 

Nevethe offered the chance of an alternate path to that reunion, but the Queen of the Wood had her own agenda, and Rumplestiltskin half-suspected that she was only stringing him along with a false hope. He was terrified that he would find out too late, and be left helpless with no future at all. No. Belle was safe enough for now. He would check on her after he had Regina well in hand. But that only begged the question, what about next time? What if he was forced to choose? What if he couldn't have it both ways? 

_Coward. Always looking for the safe path, looking for the loopholes._

By the time Rumplestiltskin returned to the Dark Castle and summoned up Belle's image in his crystal ball, she was miles away from the capital. She seemed to be camping in the forest, accompanied only by Otulissa. 

_Are they all right?_ came the anxious query from Eskereye. The griffon had been in the castle when Rumplestiltskin arrived, unlike Cogsworth, who was off on some mission or other for Nevethe. 

"Hmm. Your sister's all alone with the little princess, no doubt run ragged serving her hand and foot — perhaps you could fly out there and lend them a beak, or claw." Rumplestiltskin waved a hand, transforming the images in the crystal ball into a map marking Belle's location. 

_What about you?_

"Me? It seems Regina isn't the only one in need of _lessons,_ " Rumplestiltskin said grimly. 

* * *

Even with the long summer twilight, full dark descended rapidly, and it soon became too dangerous to ride, even on the well-maintained surface of the king's roads. A bit of magical trickery from Otulissa let Belle slip past the town gates and go unnoticed by guards as well as the last few farmers trudging home from the market. She dismounted once they reached the woods past the farmland, walking her horse until they were out of sight of the road, finding a spot near a brook to set camp. Otulissa summoned a glowing sphere to hang in the air next to Belle, a witch light that could pass for a lantern from a distance. 

The griffon watched as Belle struggled with unsaddling her horse (a good-natured gelding she had named Philippe) and getting him watered and fed. _You could stay at an inn, where they have people for that._

"I don't mind." Even though she knew she probably took twice as long as the royal stablehands, it quieted the turmoil in her head. 

_Let's hope we don't get thunderstorms tonight._

The night was calm, but once Belle rolled herself up in her blanket and tried to sleep, she couldn't, despite her exhaustion. Every time she began to doze off, images and memories of Gaston invaded her thoughts. She remembered how his weight had held her trapped, how helpless she had felt, and couldn't stop shaking. 

_Hey. Hey. You're all right._ Otulissa nuzzled her with a soft stroke of her beak, lying down next to her. _You're safe._

Belle lay awake for a long time. Every time she drifted off to sleep, she was startled awake again by flashes of memory and nightmares in which Gaston had succeeded in slaking his lust on her body. She reminded herself it hadn't happened, and Otulissa was with her, but she couldn't banish the images. 

The morning found her still tired, but she had to keep going. 

_Where are we going?_ asked Otulissa. 

"Away." Belle vaguely knew that this road eventually led to the Maritime Kingdom. Well, why not? She had always wanted to travel. 

_As I suppose it wouldn't do to be recognized—_ Otulissa landed on her shoulder and tucked a twig into Belle's hair just behind her left ear. _—you'd better wear this._

Belle touched the twig curiously. "What is it?" 

_A sprig of blackthorn. It will hold the spell in place even if I get distracted._ And being a griffon, Otulissa was easily distracted, a fact Belle was well familiar with. 

She could use some distraction of her own, Belle decided. They stopped early, camping outdoors again, with the weather holding dry and pleasantly warm. Once settled in, Belle dug out the two books she had restricted herself to bringing. To her surprise, she found _three_ books stuffed into the saddlebag. 

The third one was nothing she had ever seen before. It looked and felt ancient, a preservation spell woven into the binding. In fact, it looked like— 

"Did you steal this from Lord Girard's library?" 

_'Steal' is such a strong word._

"But accurate!" Belle shook her head, torn between ordering the griffon to return the book _right now_ and sneaking a look for herself first. 

_Call it the price owed to you by Lord Girard's son for his part in what Gaston tried to do to you. I don't know how it found its way there, but that book is too valuable to waste on those lunks._

Belle sighed. It wasn't as if Lord Girard or his son had ever shown any interest in literature or history. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't do any harm if I read it before returning it." 

It was another account of gods, heroes, and monsters, one with more words and fewer salacious illustrations than the scroll Gaston had found. The style was not only archaic but intentionally cryptic, due to the author being a member of a sect nowadays deemed heretical (and therefore persecuted out of existence long before Belle's birth). 

"My mother would never approve," muttered Belle as she realized what she was reading. 

_You're not your mother,_ said Otulissa. 

"No," Belle agreed. As the sun sank behind the trees, it wasn't her mother's theoretical disapproval that stopped her but her own tiredness and inability to concentrate. "Half of it's written in some kind of code. I'll figure it out... later." 

Later brought with it not only a fresh start (Belle had still slept badly, but better than she had managed the night before) but another griffon. 

"Eskereye!" Belle smiled in delight to see Otulissa's sister. "How are you at code-breaking?" 

* * *

For the Dark One, it was a simple matter to trace the thread of his protection spell to where it had tangled itself with the target of its power. The history of that encounter, as well as what happened after, was murkier, but still legible to a sorcerer of Rumplestiltskin's skill. 

He caught up to Gaston on the road, trussed up and tossed into a grain cart on the way to the border with the White Kingdom. Gaston went into exile escorted by a squad led by one of the king's housecarls as a token of respect to his ex-patron, Lord Girard. Despite the bandage over his right eye and half his face, Gaston looked remarkably hale for someone only recently savaged by a griffon. 

Rumplestiltskin watched him from the shadows, rage simmering deep within him. He fought back the urge to murder them all. Belle had spared the boy's life, and Rumplestiltskin had no right to— 

_Kill him._ The darkness prodded him with memories of his old life. _He deserves death._

Rumplestiltskin remembered Hordor, how he had come for Morraine and stolen her away from her helpless parents. He remembered the desperation in their eyes and the dark glint of lust in Hordor's eyes as he forced the girl to the back of his horse. _She'll ride with me._

Once he had become the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin had snapped the man's neck, then gone on to drive back the ogres and bring the children home. But he was too late for Morraine — what had been done to her couldn't be undone and she would always have to live with those memories and those scars. 

_They all deserved to die._

Hordor had acted with impunity because he had rank. He had his soldiers. He had the then-Dark One, Zoso, at his beck and call. What had let this Gaston be bold enough to assault a princess of the royal house? 

_The amulet in his hand,_ whispered the darkness. _It is imbued with divine magic._

There was no amulet, only a white scar burned into Gaston's right palm and around his fingers and wrists, marks like the imprint of a fine-linked chain. 

_Absorbed by flesh, smelted into his soul._

Rumplestiltskin frowned. He knew how powerful his spell had been, and how powerful the opposing spell had been, and it was not enough to heal Gaston so thoroughly and so quickly, not without intervention and not without a price. 

_Lord Girard,_ he thought. A high noble, wealthy, and Gaston's patron. Had he given his foster son the amulet and set him on Belle? Well. He would find out. Instead of snapping Gaston's neck as he deserved, Rumplestiltskin slipped deeper into the shadows. _Girard. Find Girard._

Girard denied everything. Eyes wide with terror, sweat beading on his forehead, back to the wall, he swore innocence. "I know nothing of any amulet. He probably stole it, that ingrate!" 

"Ingrate, you say? One who's _such_ good friends with your dear son," Rumplestiltskin half-sang the words as he pinned Girard with his gaze. "Yet you claim ignorance..." 

"I cast him out as soon as I learned of his evil." 

"Cast him out. To menace innocent girls elsewhere?" 

Girard turned pale. "Please. My son begged for his life. He was led astray by that beast, but he couldn't forget their years of fellowship." 

"Then perhaps I should have a word with your son. What was he called? Numb-wits? Thick-as-a-plank?" Rumplestiltskin smiled humorlessly and snapped his fingers. "Oh yes. Michel LeFou..." 

"No!" gasped Girard. "You can't. He's just a boy. He knows he was wrong. He's already been punished. He'll never—" 

"I see. A slap on the wrist and a stern talking-to, hmm?" 

"No! I wielded the whip with my own hand. He is my son. If you are not satisfied, take me instead." Girard met the Dark One's eyes, and Rumplestiltskin knew that the noble had been terrified of this outcome all along. "Turn me into a snail again, step on me or salt me — do as you will. Blame me for not teaching my son well, but I beg you, spare him." 

Rumplestiltskin flinched, suddenly cold, the anger draining away into pity. _His son. Peasant or noble, we all love our sons._ For his son's sake, even a proud lord of Avonlea was willing to beg and offer up his own life in exchange. Of course, Girard had no power to stop him, any more than Morraine's parents had been able to stop Hordor. 

Only he could stop himself. Rumplestiltskin nodded slightly to Girard. He said in a low, mocking voice, "Since you ask so nicely..." 

He vanished before he had to look at the stupid grateful look on Girard's face. Besides, he still needed to question Michel. A locked door and an armed guard offered him no impediment. Then he realized the lock and the guard were on the outside, keeping the boy in. Perhaps he really was being punished. 

Despite the panic in his eyes upon seeing Rumplestiltskin materialize in his room, Michel didn't dare shout for help. 

"Dark One." Michel gulped, backed up in the corner next to his bed with nowhere to run. 

"I see you remember me." Rumplestiltskin tittered at the look on the boy's face. "Good to know. I did wonder..." 

Michel wasn't as stupid as his nickname would suggest. He answered the Dark One's questions with quiet honesty. 

"The archbishop gave him the amulet?" Rumplestiltskin frowned. 

"Yes, for all the good that did anyone," Michel said bitterly. "The gods turned out to be useless in the end. Gaston was dying, and I had to find other help for him. Called herself Miracle Healer Foxglove, half mad, but she knew what she was about." 

Rumplestiltskin knew the type. Unlike the tame court physicians, the miracle healers answered to no one and were equal to the Dark One in their ability to sniff out desperate souls. "And the price for her miracle?" 

"Our friendship." Michel shrugged. "I didn't haggle." 

Rumplestiltskin saw a coldness in the boy's eyes. "Ah. Your love." People were so quick to trade it away, especially the highborn. Then again, perhaps it had been misplaced and would serve the healer better than it had Michel. 

"It doesn't matter. He's gone now. I doubt I'll see him again." Michel shut his eyes, but his voice turned defiant. "Especially if you kill me." 

Rumplestiltskin didn't bother to answer, transporting himself in a cloud of smoke to Lumiere. 

"Ah..." Lumiere wilted under the Dark One's glare. 

"You had one job!" Rumplestiltskin shook his head at Lumiere's hangdog look. "An astonishing display of incompetence. Perhaps I made a mistake in trusting in Nevethe's wisdom..."

Lumiere sighed. "It seems I underestimated how stupid humans could be." 

"Maybe teaching isn't the profession for you!" 

At that, Lumiere straightened, a flash of spirit animating his words. "Or you. I am not the one who is allowing one student to murder another under my very nose." 

Rumplestiltskin winced. The Timer was right, of course, but it had been necessary for his plans for Regina. He muttered, "You've been talking to Cogsworth." 

"That is beside the point," said Lumiere. "What about Belle?" 

"Why are you not with her?" 

Lumiere scowled. "That fluff-for-brains griffon is hiding her." 

"Isn't it lucky you gave us these crystals that link us, then?" Rumplestiltskin drew a map in the air with his fingers. "You will find her here. Well? What are you waiting for?" 

"One thing. That Gaston was given an amulet by the archbishop. You need to understand its nature. It is a seed..." 

Once he had sent Lumiere to Belle, Rumplestiltskin went to confront the archbishop. It wasn't as easy as it had been the first time. In the years since Belle's birth, the archbishop had fortified his church against the Dark One with prayers, blood magic, and a fortune in fairy dust. 

Rumplestiltskin snorted and tested the barrier. A pity the clerics hadn't been able to protect all of Avonlea that way; then the kingdom wouldn't have needed to make a deal with the devil. But the Dark One wasn't an ogre, and he had more than brute force at his disposal. They could build all the magical walls they wanted in the material realm, but the world of shadows had its own paths. Rumplestiltskin followed the thread of the archbishop's soul and wrenched it into darkness. 

_Octavius._

The archbishop screamed, the sound swallowed by the shadow world. His thoughts were a tangle of frantic prayers to gods that had no power here. 

_Octavius,_ repeated Rumplestiltskin. _Octavius. Remember me?_

_Dark One!_ came the answering thought. Shock and fear coiled themselves into a hard knot of defiance. _How dare you!_

Rumplestiltskin bared teeth longer and sharper than human. _The question is, how dare YOU? But never mind. Your little invocation failed. The vessel you anointed proved... insufficient._

_Gods curse you._

_Careful what gods you call upon, dearie. Those who answer may be less than savory._

_Better them than you, Dark One._

_Is that what you think? Did Belle agree?_ He could almost have believed it, that she was desperate enough to escape their deal — yet he remembered the terror that had triggered his protection spell, and knew it was not so. _To bear a child of a boy she despised? All to plant a divine cuckoo in the royal nest, the better to expand your own power in this kingdom?_

_Any woman would be honored to be thus blessed by the gods. If Maurice's daughter were freed from your taint, she would thank me,_ insisted Octavius. _Just as Maurice..._ The cleric turned evasive, but Rumplestiltskin caught the image in his mind. 

_Her father condoned this?_ Rumplestiltskin read the truth of it in Octavius's thoughts. _He didn't know everything you intended? But he knew enough. And as for you..._ Rumplestiltskin drew deeper upon the darkness. Octavius screamed again, thoughts caught and trapped inside his own shadow, a shadow now infested with nightmares from which there would be no waking. _Let your gods save you if they will, your grace._

Darkness surged furiously, barely contained inside his own skin, driving Rumplestiltskin on to seek out his next target. 

"Gghk." Maurice choked out the syllable, eyes wide with horror as an invisible force pinned him up against the wall of his study. 

"You are her father!" Rumplestiltskin raged, fighting back the urge to squeeze the last breath from the man. "You had her love. You had her trust. And you threw her to a beast like Gaston!" 

Maurice's eyes glistened with hatred. 

_Kill him._

No. This was Belle's father. This was Rumplestiltskin's future father-in-law... which made him family. He would have laughed himself sick, if he wasn't a heartbeat away from murder. He forced himself to loosen his grip enough to allow Maurice to draw breath. 

"You poisoned her..." 

Rumplestiltskin clenched his teeth. 

"Your filthy magic turned my little girl against me..." 

Rumplestiltskin slammed him into the wall again. 

"You destroyed my family," gasped Maurice. "Just like you destroy everything you touch. They should never have called you, never—" 

"Shut up!" Pushed past the edge of his endurance, Rumplestiltskin seized the man's soul and fell back into the shadow world before his magic could escape his conscious control and kill Maurice. _Shut up!_

He counted breaths until he could trust himself enough to trap Maurice's soul, just as he had done to Octavius. _Poison, am I? Perhaps you're right. Well, then, may as well let you have a taste..._

* * *

The weather turned inhospitable, a heavy rain settling in for what Otulissa predicted to be the next three days. Belle gave up on camping and hired a room at an inn. 

Otulissa looked grateful for the chance to dry her fur and preen her feathers, but Eskereye teased them, _Fair weather adventurers!_

Belle stuck out her tongue at the black griffon. "I don't want the books to get wet. Unlike some people, I appreciate fine literature." She pulled up a stool and laid out her stolen book on the rickety wooden table in her room, a sheet of paper next to it with her notes. 

Eskereye snorted. _Fine literature? You can't even read it._

To Belle's disappointment, both griffons had turned out to be terrible at code-breaking. "I wish Lumiere—" Then she caught herself and shut her mouth grimly. 

_Belle..._ Otulissa lifted her beak from under a wing and eyed Belle. _Are you planning to hold this grudge forever?_

"Of course not." It wasn't his fault Gaston was Gaston. Belle knew Lumiere meant well, but he did have a tendency to trail a step behind with his help and his teaching. Like now. The more she thought about it, the more suspicious she became and the guiltier Otulissa looked. She opened her mouth and gambled that she was right. "No need to wait until I stumble into a pit, Lumiere. You may as well stop lurking and join us for dinner." 

The shadow near the door shimmered, and a shame-faced Lumiere stepped out. He cleared his throat. "Ah. That is. I am sorry. You're right. I have failed you." 

"Oh, Lumiere." Belle jumped off her stool and rushed over to hug him. "I'm sorry I sneaked off like that. Although..." She gave Otulissa an accusing glance. 

"No, no, you cannot blame her," Lumiere said, catching the direction of her glance. "She in fact hid you from me and it was the Dark One who sent me here." 

"Oh." Belle let go of Lumiere and sat back down. "I hope he's not angry with me." 

"With you?" Lumiere shook his head. "Of course not. I am sure that he is, as am I, glad that you have come to your senses and found a dry place to sleep." He shot her a worried look. "And that your sleep is less troubled...?" 

Belle nodded, her hand reflexively gripping the crystal around her neck. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but its touch helped drive the memories back when they unexpectedly surged up into her mind. She was able to face them and let them fade into the past like her other memories without being overwhelmed by fear. 

"Well, I am sorry for, as you say, 'lurking'. I was unsure of my welcome." 

"It's all right." Belle laughed a little. "Though it seems less of an adventure if I have all of you helping me." 

Lumiere tsked. "It is no shame to have help." 

"But a hero's journey..." mumbled Belle. She couldn't help but think of the solitary figures in the legends. A hero and perhaps a sidekick and a trusty steed, but who went adventuring with their teacher? 

"Is it about your ego or about true accomplishment?" Lumiere gave her a knowing look. "True greatness is achieved by teamwork." 

Belle scowled. "But this is _my_ adventure. I don't care if you think that sounds petty. If I don't seize my chance now, I may never be this free again." 

"Yes, yes, I would not dream of getting in your way, my dear child." 

_That's why he was 'lurking', you ninny,_ said Otulissa. 

Belle rolled her eyes. "Fine. Next you'll be telling me to bring my mother..." The rest of the sentence was forgotten as a wave of homesickness washed over her. "That is... my friends, my family. Are they well?" 

"Ah, as to that. That depends on one's point of view," Lumiere hedged. 

Belle braced herself. "Just tell me." 

He did. 

Belle stared at him blankly, jaws tightened against the urge to either celebrate or weep. _Gods. Caught in the shadows of his own mind. In nightmares._ "Is there no way out?" 

Lumiere shrugged. "In time, perhaps. With understanding comes freedom. Enlightenment is always possible." 

A part of her wanted to run back home, but another part screamed against the idea. It wasn't heroic to wish suffering on her own father, yet she was glad he couldn't do what he had done to her to anyone else. In a few years, Sylvie would be old enough to marry. "He will live?" 

"His body retains all the health he has otherwise." 

Belle nodded. The Dark One's judgement was harsh, but everyone knew that he never spared anyone who tried to break a deal with him. How had her father imagined he could get away with it? Had the archbishop convinced him that the gods would back them against a demon? She was grateful they _hadn't_ , a blasphemous thought she tried not to think too loudly. 

She had left for good reasons. This changed nothing. Her life was her own for these few years, even if her future had already been sold. "I'm not going back." 

* * *

"The Church is out for blood." Sylvie rushed into her mother's chambers, simultaneously excited and scared. "I don't understand how they can think you have anything to do with it, when Father... when the same thing happened to him." 

Sylvie and Colette both turned to look at where Maurice was sat in an armchair, eyes turned emptily towards the window. He didn't speak, only ate when fed, only moved when guided, his mind lost inside itself. The Dark One had been angry, and this was the result. Lumiere had explained the situation to Colette before himself vanishing to go after Belle. 

Colette sighed and shook her head. She didn't have the heart to explain to her daughter that she was being naive. _She will learn soon enough._ "They need someone to blame, that's all." 

"Well, it shouldn't be _you_. You don't even have magic!" 

These days, Colette almost wished she did, never mind that her family had never had a drop of magical talent. "Yet it is true that we called upon a demon to save us." 

"One time. That was one time, and it was the king, not you." Sylvie glanced again at Maurice. "What's wrong with Father, really? _Was_ it the Dark One?" 

"Some things it's better for you not to know," said Colette. "If the Church takes you..." 

"You won't let them, will you?" 

"No, not while I draw breath." But her breath didn't have the power to stop the mob of the faithful. With the archbishop incapacitated, his assistant Remy rallied the church under his leadership by setting them against whatever enemy was most convenient. "I will have a word with the king." 

She had more than a few words with him, as she told him what she knew of what had happened to her husband and to the archbishop. 

The king shook his head. "That boy was always too impetuous for his own good. Amaury has a cooler head and will be steadier on the throne. A pity Maurice couldn't accept... well. What's done is done." 

"What about the Church?" 

"The talk is that the blood of Aphrodite runs thin in Avonlea, so it's no wonder the archbishop hoped to win fresh favor from the gods." The king smiled thinly. "It's not quite the blessing folk think it is." 

"But the one in the Wood is hardly better! She sent the Dark One to us." 

"I suspect the Goddess of the Grove is not what she once was, either, or she would have acted more directly. The Dark One is the power that rules the board at the moment, that's clear enough." 

"Well, none of them are here, but the Church is at my door." 

The king nodded. "You're right. An attack on you is an attack on the royal house, and that won't do. I'll see to it." 

And that was that. Colette was unnerved by the cold-blooded way he almost seemed relieved to have his troublesome son out of the way of his favored heir, but she herself was still too furious at her husband to speak up for him to his father. 

It was a different matter when the king's intervention diverted the Church's blood-thirst onto two new scapegoats. 

"Please, my lady, won't you save them?" begged the girl — Lizzy, that was her name — Belle's friend. She had talked her way past the servants to a private audience with Lady Colette. She dropped to her knees, eyes desperately pleading. "They're just boys, they didn't mean anything by it, I swear..." 

A joke. A silly trick. That was how Lizzy explained it: her cousins Jacques and Jean had smuggled rotten eggs into the ritual offering at the summer festival. In retrospect, the Church had taken it for an omen — an early manifestation of the same curse that had struck down the archbishop. With the Dark One's demon nowhere to be found, the boys who had been among his pupils were natural surrogates to take the blame. 

"They laughed," said Lizzy. "They shouldn't have laughed." In any other year, in any other week, the boys might have gotten away with it, but they had the bad luck to pull their prank the day before Belle's fateful encounter with Gaston in Lord Girard's library. Hauled away by Remy's mob, Jacques and Jean were accused of witchcraft and tortured until they confessed. "The Church had them whipped and branded, and now they're going to hang them!" 

Colette felt a chill run through her. There but for the grace of his majesty went Colette to the gallows. She grasped Lizzy's hands, pulling her to her feet. "No, no, they will not. We won't let them." She knew Lizzy wasn't safe, either. It was only a matter of time before the Church took her. 

The king was reluctant to stick out his neck for two 'gutter rats', as he called them, but Colette was adamant. 

"I am only a weak woman, your majesty, and the grief of losing my daughter and my husband is too much for me to bear alone. Perhaps I shall seek solace in the arms of the Church — recant my heresies and throw myself upon the mercy of the clerics," said Colette, staring coldly at the king. "No doubt they will welcome me, and pray with me against the sins of those who bear responsibility for my loss..." 

The king growled, "No need to air our dirty laundry to that bastard Remy. I'm sure the family supports you fully in your time of need." 

"Fully?" 

The king narrowed his eyes. "Exile. Take it or leave it." 

Colette nodded. "Thank you, your majesty." 

Thus it was that Colette sent the four of them — Lizzy, Lizzy's mother, Jacques, and Jean — into exile with a letter of introduction and enough gold to see them to the Dark One's lands. "You have a claim on him, through my daughter. He is said to honor such ties..." 

She hoped it was true. And if it was, then maybe there was a chance for her daughter to not be alone in a strange land when the time came. _Wherever you are, Belle, please be safe..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fudging the timeline a bit, and taking liberties with Aurora, Phillip, and so on. (Some aspects may be influenced by the live-action Maleficent movie, if you squint.) Taking even more liberties with Greek mythology. Plus the usual random stuff I decided to stir into the pot!
> 
> The lack of a canonical map of the Enchanted Forest was annoying me so I decided to make one myself. Yeah, yeah, fairy tales aren't meant to be realistic as far as geography and travel times go, but the tabletop RPGer in me can't stand it. It's posted [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174334/chapters/64148593) for now, but I'll probably include it in an appendix chapter once I'm done writing this story.

* * *

The next night, with more rain falling and the ground soaked and muddy, Belle stayed in an inn again. 

"Lumiere, you aren't from this realm, are you?" She didn't wait for Lumiere to answer, but rushed on to her real question. "You've been stuck in Avonlea all these years. Do you... don't you want to go home? And could I... could I visit?" 

Lumiere blinked at her. "Well..." 

_Why would anyone want to go there?_ grumbled Eskereye. _Boring old forest full of shadows._

"It's just that I've never been to anywhere, really, and..." 

"You're curious." Lumiere smiled. "It is true it has been long since I was home. And it would be my pleasure to bring you as my guest." 

Belle clapped her hands in glee. The griffons sulked. 

Lumiere sighed. "You two rogues as well, of course. Since you are forbidden from your old homeland, let you be welcome to make new homes in mine!" 

The griffons looked at each other, then at Lumiere. 

_Oh. Well, thanks but no thanks,_ muttered Otulissa. _This mortal realm is enough for us._

Belle nudged Otulissa. "But it would be rude not to go now that he's invited us. Come on, it'll be fun!" 

"Perhaps a short visit. Well, as it is said, there is no time like the present. We can be back by morning." After securing the griffons' agreement, Lumiere stretched his wings out and beckoned them to gather closer. "The way is through the shadows." There were plenty to choose from, with the room lit by a single flickering oil lamp. "The key is a thought, and that thought is..." 

"No shadow without light, no light without shadow." Belle repeated the words after Lumiere. The world fell away. She bit back a scream as darkness filled her vision. She remembered what Lumiere had taught them: _The shadow realm has no direction as you understand it, no up, no down. It feels like falling, or floating, depending on how you perceive it._ She clutched instinctively at her crystal pendant, and while she still saw nothing, the darkness felt warmer, less ominous. 

Then the shadows broke apart and Belle blinked, dazzled by sudden brightness. A forest of vast trees extended in every direction. Belle swayed, the view making her dizzy. She caught herself on a tree trunk before she fell over. At the contact, a rush of images flooded through her like a dream, passing too quickly for her to comprehend what she had seen. 

A rustle of dry leaves woke her from her daze. The two griffons had landed on the ground rather than perching on a tree branch. They huddled warily against each other and looked around with wide eyes. 

"Welcome to the Wood Beyond," said Lumiere. "The trees are born of true love. That is the magic you feel." 

_Born of true love, maybe, but the roots feed on darkness,_ said Otulissa. 

"And the leaves feed on light. That is the way of it, my little friends." 

_Who are you calling 'little'?_ growled Eskereye. At some silent signal, both griffons expanded to their full size, wings extended, feathers fluffing to make them look even bigger. 

Lumiere rolled his eyes. "The trees are even so larger than you, as well as outnumbering you by a multitude. If it comes to a battle, I fear you stand not a chance!" 

Belle chuckled uneasily at the thought of the griffons launching an attack against the forest. She straightened, brushing her hands against her shirt, still feeling the imprint of the bark against her palms. "So, um, do you have a house where you live, or...?" 

Lumiere scratched behind an ear, looking slightly embarrassed. "More of a den. A mere hole in the ground. It has been so long since I was much here... never mind, you should meet the Queen! She will be wanting to see you." 

"She will?" As simple as that? Back in Avonlea, the king had far more petitioners wishing for an audience than he had time to spare for them. Having arrived in Nevethe with no advance notice, Belle hadn't expected to actually meet its ruler. 

"She is the Queen. She has an interest in all who visit here." And according to Lumiere, no appointment was necessary. Some peculiar magic of Nevethe allowed the Queen to meet every visitor in turn in the space of a single moment. "The magic of True Love transcends time and space." 

Was that why she felt so muddled? As Belle followed Lumiere through the forest, it was like walking through a dream. Sometimes she thought she was underwater or half-asleep. She caught glimpses of figures through the trees, just out of focus. Sometimes she thought they looked like older or younger versions of herself. Once or twice, she saw them right next to her out of the corner of her eye, whispering secrets of the future into her ear, but they vanished when she turned to face them, and the memories of their secrets vanished with them. 

The griffons stayed full size, keeping together and not speaking. Now and then they stopped to snarl at a tree, but Lumiere laughed it off and herded them onward. The trees grew sparser as they approached a vast field dominated by a single tree as large as a mountain. In the field rose a rocky hill, and that was where Lumiere took them. 

Was she there already? Or had she been and gone? Seeing herself leaving, but visibly older, Belle stumbled in a moment of panic. Had she already been here for years and not noticed? Then Lumiere touched her arm and the image vanished. 

"Steady now," he murmured. "Almost there." 

Belle blinked. She stood at the top of the hill. "Where... where's the Queen?" 

"Where I have always been," came the answer in a voice as vast as thunder. 

Belle cried out in shock. What she had taken for a haze of dust and fog suddenly cohered into a colossus of air and shadow. Eyes took shape, faded red moons staring down at her. She managed a clumsy curtsy. "Y-your majesty." 

"Belle." The moons shifted subtly, and the two griffons at Belle's side bristled. "And two children of light bold enough cross the threshold of shadow..." 

_We're not afraid of the dark,_ said Eskereye. _We just weren't interested in dirtying our paws in it before._

"Yet here you are." 

_We're here to make sure you don't play your tricks on Belle,_ said Otulissa. 

"Manners," murmured Lumiere, shaking his head. 

"Tricks?" The Queen chuckled. "I am always what I am. But as for what you are, well, that is the question." 

"Don't... don't you already know, your majesty?" Belle tried not to flinch as the inhuman gaze focused on her. The Queen had greeted her by name, hadn't she? 

"Hmm. That remains to be seen." The Queen stared her unnerving stare. 

Belle shivered, unable to meet that look for any longer. She felt as if it accused her of terrible sins she couldn't even conceive of, and her inability to remember only added to her guilt. Dizzy and light-headed, she found herself on her knees when the Queen finally blinked, releasing Belle from her scrutiny. Belle gulped, her mouth unaccountably dry. 

The griffons crouched next to her, silent and seemingly just as shaken. 

"So," the Queen said at last. 

Belle clambered back to her feet, leaning on Otulissa when another wave of dizziness overtook her. She licked her lips and croaked, "So?" 

"Yes. I suppose you'll do." 

"Oh, I will, will I?" A spark of defiance burned through the fog in her head. "And what if I don't want to... to..." Belle had no idea what the Queen was talking about, but she knew she didn't appreciate her tone. Manners, indeed! She shot Lumiere a look. 

Lumiere cleared his throat, turning to his Queen. "Ah, well, if she passes your test, should she not be rewarded?" 

Which only made Belle more annoyed. "This isn't one of your classes, and I'm not one of her students, to be patted on the head and given a treat!" Then she clapped a hand over her mouth, mortified to be speaking this way to royalty. "Sorry..." 

The Queen huffed in amusement. "Child, you are all my students, from a certain perspective." 

Belle remembered that the Queen was one of the oldest of all living creatures, maybe even older than the gods, and couldn't be expected to have a normal, mortal point of view about these things. "Right..." 

"But you're right. You are my guests, and have come through darkness and shadow to this realm. What kind of host would I be not to offer you a boon?" The vast eyes peered at her, now only expressing mild curiosity. "Ask!" 

"Oh. Ah, thank you, your majesty." Her mind went blank, and she had no idea what she could safely ask. Not to ask would be an insult, as would asking too much. Then she remembered that she still had her mystery book tucked away in her sleeve and pulled it out. "Well, there is this book. I'm having trouble figuring it out..." 

The book vanished from her hand in a puff of smoke. Then... 

"Olympian politics," said the Queen with clear distaste. "I am bound not to meddle." 

"Bound?" Belle found the book back in her hand as abruptly as it had vanished. 

"Those trees are forever lost to the Wood. I made peace with the gods in order to protect the trees not yet born." 

Belle glanced at Lumiere. "You never taught us about this bit of history." 

He shrugged. "Before my time. Besides, the Church of Avonlea would have hanged you all for blasphemy if you learned such things from me." 

Belle snorted. "Just as well I left, then." 

The Queen looked at Belle. "Perhaps you may yet decipher that book. That knowledge is not altogether lost. But beware, child..." 

"Beware of what?" 

"Books are dead, but you are alive. Words can be a prison. Take care you don't trap yourself." 

At that, the griffons squeaked indignantly. Otulissa spoke for both of them, _Books are RELIABLE. They don't forget. They don't change the story willy-nilly to suit themselves._

"And if they are wrong or irrelevant, they can't adapt themselves to the circumstances," came the Queen's rejoinder. 

_Shadow-born savages,_ snarled Eskereye. _Come on, let's go. It's this realm that is the trap!_

Belle had to admit that there was something about the atmosphere here that made it hard to breathe, or was it that it was hard to think? All her memories were mixed up and she was finding it harder and harder to order her thoughts. 

"No boons?" the Queen asked the griffons. 

_All we need is safe passage out of this misbegotten wood,_ growled Eskereye. 

"So be it." 

* * *

"And that's why I never took you there before," said Lumiere once they were safely back in the inn. 

"It feels like a dream," said Belle. "Maybe we'll just stick to this realm for a while." 

A week later, they had arrived at Sweetport, the capital of the Maritime Kingdom. 

_You came all this way to look at... bookshops?_ Eskereye sounded less than impressed. 

"Well, there might be something new," said Belle. Since she didn't want to carry the weight, she was doing her best to skim the interesting parts as she browsed. "Or something to help with translating that book." 

_You're taking too long,_ Otulissa put in. _The shopkeeper looks annoyed._

"Can't you go and distract her or something?" As a matter of fact, Belle had initially wanted to meet the mermaids the kingdom was famous for, but so far had only found humans walking about the streets of the city. Well, mermaids wouldn't be _walking,_ obviously, but she hadn't seen anyone in the water, either. There was only a statue of the sea goddess Ursula on a big rock in the harbor, complete with a brass plaque commemorating an old treaty between land and sea. 

Belle spent the next few days exploring the city. It was larger and more cosmopolitan than Avonlea's capital, with visitors from all over the realm (but still no mermaids). At the end of the week, Belle joined the local guild of messengers and scribes. 

"You did what?" spluttered Lumiere. 

"Applied to the Wingfoot Guild. I already paid the fee. The entrance exam is in an hour. Wish me luck!" 

The master scribe who administered the exam eyed her askance. "We don't get many women." But Belle (or "Lacey", as she had dubbed herself) had proven herself acceptably competent with pen and ink, enough to qualify for the lowest rank of the guild, who were only allowed to take commissions from the lower sort of commoners. "Are you certain this is what you want?" 

Belle smiled brightly. "Of course." A cover, a source of income, and an excuse to travel — it was just what she needed right now. _Do the brave thing,_ she reminded herself. 

The master scribe sighed. "That's a fine horse you rode in on, Lacey. And a fine seat you have on it. It's not our business to ask questions, except one: will you bring trouble with you into the guild?" 

Belle shook her head. "I may be far from home, but I'm no thief" —she thought guiltily of her book— "and no outlaw on the run." Even if she _was_ running away, no one was likely to come after her who wasn't already here. And Otulissa and Eskereye still maintained the spell that obscured her identity. 

The master scribe eyed her critically. "So be it." He handed her a slim codex. "The laws of the guild. You can take your vows tomorrow at sunset." 

The vows were administered at the guild's shrine, with the master's senior apprentice serving as a witness. Belle knelt in front of the altar. To her confusion, the spot normally reserved for the god's statue was empty. 

"The Absent God," murmured the apprentice. 

Belle nodded. One of the duties laid out in the guild codex was to search for their patron god, who had apparently gone missing centuries ago. 

The vows themselves went much as Belle expected: solemn promises to truth, timeliness, and discretion. At the end, she was presented with the bronze badge and goose feather that were the emblems of the guild. 

"Don't dishonor the guild," the apprentice warned her as he took her for a celebratory drink at the local watering hole. "We have connections with the assassins guild." 

"Is that even a real thing?" 

The apprentice winked. "You don't want to find out. Look, here we are. Hey, guys, meet our newest brother, um, sister — Lacey!" 

"Huh, guess we don't need to ask how _she_ paid for her membership." 

"Shut the hell up, Rab. My master doesn't go in for that kind of business..." The apprentice scowled, not meeting Belle's eyes. He ducked his head and whispered behind his hand, "Buy those idiots a round of drinks and they'll settle quick enough." 

Belle forced a smile and did as he suggested, grateful that even on the run, she still had the power of her money if not her name. This was why she had wanted to secure a way to get more before her coin ran out. 

Once she was out of the city and on the road, it was easier to pretend that she was just another roving guild messenger, with the jaunty hat and feather to prove it. Lumiere indulged in his previously hidden fantasy of becoming a traveling entertainer, putting on a human shape and a comedy routine with the two griffons. 

"Well, it could have been worse," was Belle's comment after watching his show. The villagers were amused enough that they threw coppers rather than rotten fruit or worse. Later, Belle was called on to write out contracts or in other cases, to read them for those who couldn't, but kept them as a record. Sometimes people tried to bribe her to read or write falsely. 

"More people need to learn to read," she complained to Lumiere after one particularly egregious attempt to sway her. "I'm glad you convinced the king to start that school in Avonlea. I wonder how that's going?" 

"Hora will no doubt persevere," Lumiere answered glumly. 

"What's it like in the Dark One's lands?" 

"Oh, he agrees with you on this matter of literacy. It is many years since he established schools for all the children in his lands. He _is_ rather fond of contracts, and what fun are those if his victims — ah, that is to say, 'clients' — cannot read his clever words?" 

Belle snorted. "Well, these contracts aren't exactly literary masterpieces. Mostly boundaries and cows and water rights and so on." 

Weeks became months became seasons. The weather turned harsh and wet. They spent more time indoors and less on the road. Belle didn't mind too much. She allowed herself a few more books (sold in exchange for new ones to keep the weight in check) and time to get to know people and hear their stories. 

Winter turned into spring and they continued with their travels. Two years after she had left Avonlea, Belle found herself in the White Kingdom, sharing a table with a love-struck dwarf. After encouraging him to take a chance with his love (a fairy!), he in turn encouraged her in her dreams of adventure. 

Which didn't turn out as expected, when the fire-breathing monster begged for help and transformed into a human prince. 

"Come with us," urged Phillip, who was grateful for their help. "You too, Mulan." Mulan was a warrior who had been hunting the 'monster' for far longer than Belle, but the two of them had become friends and worked together in the end. Phillip wasn't going home, but rather to the kingdom where his true love, the princess Aurora, lay locked in a sleeping curse. 

"Yrkthera, you say?" Mulan shot Belle a sly glance. "I've heard they have a famous library there..." 

Belle blushed, unable to escape her own reputation as a bookworm no matter where she went. But it did sound interesting, so she readily agreed. 

They were stopped at the border by none other than the Evil Queen herself, Queen Dowager Regina of the White Kingdom. 

Belle kept her eyes lowered, trusting in Otulissa's spell to keep her innocuous. She had known it was a risk venturing into this kingdom, considering the reputation of the queen, but had hoped to keep out of her way. Rumor had it that you were relatively safe as long as you didn't say or do anything to remind Regina of her mortal enemy, the poor orphaned princess-turned-outlaw, 'Snow'. 

"Name's Lacey, your majesty," said Belle when asked. "Wingfoot Guild, out of the Maritime Kingdom." She showed the queen her badge, which supposedly meant safe passage into all the neighboring kingdoms around the Maritime Kingdom. 

"You don't sound like one of those fish-lovers. You're from Avonlea, with that accent." 

"Yes, your majesty." 

"I heard rumors that one of their princesses had gone missing. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" 

"No, your majesty." She risked a peek at the queen. Who was said to be a witch. The queen was staring hard at Lumiere, who squirmed under her scrutiny as if his human form was an ill-fitting suit. 

"Of course not." The queen smiled coldly. She had already questioned Phillip and Mulan. Clad in commoner's cast-offs after he had recovered from his transformation, with no more magic lingering on him, he and the warrior were apparently beneath Regina's notice. She glanced again at Belle. 

Belle held her breath. Then— 

"Be on your way, _Lacey_." 

Belle breathed again. 

"Probably didn't want to pick a fight," said Lumiere later, in private. "She knew what we were." 

Belle nodded, taking comfort in the knowledge that they had some magic on their side. "I'm just glad to be out of her reach. They say she's slaughtered entire villages. They also say she's a student of the Dark One..." 

Lumiere sighed. "That... is actually true." 

"Which part?" 

"Both." 

"Oh." Belle shuddered. Would he expect her to learn dark magic, too? No. She refused to become a monster. That was not part of the deal, and the Dark One always kept his deals. 

* * *

The princess lay in state on a bier in the grandest church in Yrkthera, where prayers for her recovery were amplified by the holiness of her surroundings — and nevertheless, futile. 

It had taken over a month of hard riding to get there from the border of the White Kingdom. Dark forest and lush countryside gave way to the bright arid hills of Yrkthera, the architecture changing along with the landscape. The church was crowned with towers and a domed roof unlike those Belle was accustomed to. The guards stationed at the gates allowed them in with few questions asked, the king having promised a rich reward for anyone who could save his only daughter. 

It was only after Phillip's kiss broke the curse that he let himself be revealed as a younger prince of a small kingdom to the north — one too insignificant for a romance with Yrkthera's princess to be anything but a minor scandal. Now that had all changed. 

"No use keeping it a secret any more," he said wryly. His name (and official betrothal to Aurora) was trumpeted all across the kingdom. He introduced her to his new friends, and they were swept up in a week of royal celebration. 

Belle couldn't help but worry. "What about Maleficent? What if she comes back and curses you again?" 

Aurora shook her head. "She won't." 

Apparently the dragon sorceress was both more efficient with her revenge than Regina and more restrained. An odd sense of fair play meant that once she had taken her shot at the offending parties, Maleficent considered the debt paid and settled. Neither Phillip nor Aurora explained what the supposed offense had been, but Belle gathered that Aurora's family was involved, and that they weren't entirely innocent. 

Relieved, Belle let herself delve deep into the Great Library of Yrkthera. A vast and ancient collection, Belle would have put it on top of her personal list of the wonders of the world. A grateful Aurora granted her free access to even the locked archives. 

There, at last, she found the key that unlocked her mystery book. 

* * *

Long before humankind ever walked the earth, the Titans were born: twelve brothers and sisters, primordial giants, un-aging and immensely powerful. The youngest, Kronos, took up his sickle and castrated his father, dismembering him and taking his place as the supreme ruler. 

Where this primordial blood splattered against the sky, giants were born, while ogres sprang up from the drops that sank into the earth. The ogres dwell in the hidden realm of stone, sustained by earthfire... 

_Wait. Ogres? The same ogres we have today? Lumiere, is that true?_

_The realm exists, but only for the ogres. For those not touched by the blood of a Titan, they may make of the earth a hollow and never find it._

_Huh._

Fearing that his own children would do the same to him in turn, Kronos swallowed each as soon as Rhea — sister, wife, and queen — gave birth. He failed to account for the love of a mother for her children. Rhea escaped Kronos long enough to give birth to Zeus, then tricked Kronos by handing him a stone swaddled in cloth. 

Zeus grew up in a hidden cave, protected and tutored by the earth herself. Once he was old enough to fight, he seized the burning power of the true love forged between mother and son, using it to free his siblings and elevate himself above his father and becoming the first of the gods later known as the Olympians. 

But of the other Titans, some had no love in their hearts, while others refused to sacrifice love for power, and they became the enemies of the newborn gods. In the war that followed, Zeus destroyed his father and imprisoned his enemies in Tartarus. 

_Wait, didn't your queen say something about the Olympians? Was she involved in this war?_

_As you may imagine, she was fully against this abominable massacre of true love's material witnesses, whether to become gods or to slay gods._

_So that's... literal? All that about the 'burning power of true love'?_

_More or less._

_That's... horrible._

_What else is a tree for except to be used? What is the point of a forest with so much unharvested power?_

_But... but..._

_I suspect that this debate will persist as long as life itself._

_Well, it ended for now. I suppose because the gods didn't want any competition._

Wary of history repeating itself, Zeus arranged that his own children would have no such opportunity for power. The gods stopped their hearts, shielding themselves from fate and love alike. Even Aphrodite was bound, chained to Hephaestus and severed from true love by his arts. 

Nevertheless, life will not be denied. A new race — humankind — arose out of the dust. Fearing their potential, Zeus decreed that the mortals would bow down before the gods and offer up the best portion of every meal. But one of the Titans looked to the future and took the side of the new children of earth. Prometheus was his name. Not only did he trick Zeus into accepting a lesser sacrifice, he stole fire from heaven and gave it to humankind. 

Enraged by this betrayal, Zeus banished Prometheus and chained him to a mountaintop, where every day an eagle would feed upon his liver. Being immortal, Prometheus healed each night to face fresh torment the next day. 

_I remember this story. I always felt sorry for Prometheus. But listen, they never taught us this next part..._

Trapped where none could hear his screams, Prometheus filed off pieces of his chains and forged it with his stolen flame into a divine Grail. This vessel he flung blindly through the realms like a message in a bottle tossed into the sea. It fell to earth in this realm, in the land called Camelot. The first to find it was unworthy, but the second heard the Titan's call. 

_Fell to earth... with a nudge from our Queen._

_I thought she said she didn't meddle with Olympian politics._

_It's hardly 'meddling' to pick up an item already discarded and move it to another location..._

For many years, the Sorcerer sought the means to find and free Prometheus, taking on an apprentice who in turn recruited others. It is said that after many centuries, he created a wand that had the power to open a door to the Titan's prison, but whether it would have worked, we don't know. 

The Apprentice (a curse upon him) betrayed his master. Coveting the magic that the Sorcerer refused to share with his pupil, the Apprentice sold Merlin's secrets to Zeus. From Aphrodite, Zeus learned the name of the woman destined to be Merlin's True Love. He sent the Apprentice to whisper rumors of the Holy Grail in the ear of Vortigan, a vicious warlord who would stop at nothing in his pursuit of power. 

The Sorcerer's downfall was thus set in motion. In the end, Nimue bound Merlin in the tree born of their true love, corrupting it with her own darkness... 

_A loss for the Wood Beyond. Our Queen had hopes for Merlin and Nimue._

The Apprentice was rewarded with a magical pen, the better to write the story the gods desired, but in the end he, too, was tricked: he could not use the pen himself, but had to find another to write for him. He took his master's wand and fled the wrath of those of us who remained loyal to the old purpose. 

But by then, the gods had seeded the mortal realms with their demigod children and set them up as kings and queens over humankind. Our order was outlawed and we, too, were forced to flee. 

Yet while one of us draws breath, we will not give up. 

_And they meant it: here's a list of their dead. Heretics all. The Church says heretics and blasphemers are punished in Tartarus. If that's true, I suppose I'll find out some day..._

_That realm also is beyond our reach. Those of Nevethe go back to the shadows when we perish._

_But look, they came so close to their goal! They found Zeus's eagle, and it flies in this realm. That's why this book is here. It's on the border of Yrkthera!_

_Belle..._

_Don't you see? It's up to us. We have to free Prometheus!_

* * *

"Be careful!" Lumiere's warning had been repeated so many times as to lose all meaning. 

This time it barely stopped Belle from stepping into nothing when the mountain path took a precarious twist. Heat and thirst had turned her thoughts sluggish. She leaned on the pack mule, trying to recenter herself. They had been forced to leave Philippe behind, the terrain being too steep and rocky for a horse. It was also hot and dry, a landscape too harsh even for the rugged goat herders of Yrkthera. They had taken to starting before dawn, taking a long break at midday, then walking past sunset. Even then, Lumiere was battered by the unrelenting sun, hiding in every shadow he could tuck his feet into. 

If only he could take them there through the shadow realm... but Belle knew it was impossible. Like the Infinite Forest, Yrkthera had magic woven into its geography, and where you arrived depended on the path you took. Every step was necessary and no location was absolute. 

"Be careful," Lumiere had warned her even before they set off. "Whatever else he is or has done, Prometheus is a Titan. Not human, not mortal." 

"Yes, so? Neither are you." 

"But still I live within the same reality as you..." 

Belle shook her head. "It doesn't matter. No one deserves to be chained up to be tortured for an eternity." 

She didn't tell Mulan, Phillip, or Aurora of her quest, knowing they were more orthodox in their beliefs than Lumiere, and didn't want to force them to choose between their gods and their friend. She said only that she wanted to visit an ancient site she had read about in a book. Aurora gifted her with a magical gourd from the royal treasury in gratitude for saving Phillip. The gourd was inscribed with sacred glyphs for water, and once filled, could pour pure water in a continuous stream for three days and three nights before it ran dry. 

They followed a narrow canyon into the mountains, then climbed a circuitous route to a different canyon higher and steeper than the first. Even the griffons stayed close, not daring to fly ahead in case they became separated. That was, until they reached the ridge high above the treeline where the wind cut sharp and chill, and they saw the distant speck of an eagle against the barren sky. 

"There! Is that...?" Belle peered upwards, taking a careless step in her excitement, the altitude and dehydration making her dizzy and lightheaded. 

Even as Lumiere hooked a claw into the back of her belt to keep Belle from plunging over a cliff, Otulissa and Eskereye shot up like two arrows after the eagle. 

"Idiots," muttered Lumiere. "All of you." 

Eventually the griffons returned, wings drooping in shame. _She flew where we could not follow._

"If it was so easy, those cultists would have long since found their Titan," said Lumiere. "Well, it has been a most pleasant trek. Let's eat and rest and then we can head back to civilization..." 

"I'm not giving up," Belle told him, annoyed at his reluctance. 

Lumiere gave an exaggerated sigh. "Then what? We are at the top. There is nowhere to go but down..." 

"You all have wings — there's no such thing as 'the top'!" 

_Until the air runs too thin,_ said Otulissa. 

"Yes, but it's the same for the eagle. Otulissa, you can carry me, can't you? Never mind Lumiere, don't _you_ want to solve this mystery that no one else has?" 

Otulissa's tail twitched. _I am curious..._

"Damned cats!" Lumiere rolled his eyes. 

_I am curious as well,_ admitted Eskereye. _But the eagle flew out of the world... we really couldn't follow._

"That's because... that's because..." Belle frowned, something nagging at the back of her mind. Then she remembered. "Because you're not Titans. It's like the ogre realm, only accessible to those touched by the blood of a Titan." 

"It's possible," mused Lumiere. "But only a theory we cannot test. We have not the blood of a Titan." 

"They say the House of Avonlea is descended from Aphrodite," said Belle. "Does that count?" 

"Alas, no. You are too many generations removed. You are only human." 

Belle sighed. "All right. But blood, Titan's blood... if we take it literally, if we had actual blood..." 

" _Ichor_. As a spell component, sorcerers and alchemists call it _ichor_. Rare, expensive, and we don't have any." 

"But the eagle does. If it's true that it tears out a Titan's innards every day..." 

_There was blood on her beak,_ said Eskereye. 

Belle beamed in triumph. "There you go. All we need to do is collect a sample. Can't you use your magic to do that?" 

They could. They did. And so they flew (Belle on Otulissa's back and the pack mule tethered in the shade of the cliffs a hundred feet down) after the eagle into another world. 

In hindsight, it was obvious that it was a trap. Why else let the eagle fly in Yrktheran air except as a lure to flush out the enemies of Zeus? 

How could it be so simple as an ordinary animal, however large and immortal? Once across the threshold, the eagle became Nemesis. A sweep of her wings separated them, blasting Lumiere and Eskereye into a dusty void, while Otulissa fell deeper into the trap, Belle thrown off the griffon's back to tumble down a steep gravel slope, clothes ripped to shreds. 

Heat surged over her skin, and Belle was dazedly grateful for the Dark One's protection spell that was all that saved her from being a bleeding, broken wreck at the bottom of the slope. 

Then Nemesis was upon her, eyes glowing white with rage, a fire that burned its thoughts directly into Belle's mind. _You dare set yourself against the gods?_

Belle opened her mouth, but her throat was too dry to speak. The eagle rose again, talons outstretched and ready to kill. Battered as she was, Belle scrambled upright enough to try to make a run for it. She scanned the slope frantically, hoping for any hint of cover. But there was none within reach, and the eagle swooped down at her faster than she could flee... 


	10. Chapter 10

_What trouble have you got yourself into now, girl?_ Rumplestiltskin bit back a gasp as power was wrenched out of him by his own spell. _And your timing hasn't improved!_

Regina was visiting the Dark Castle again in aid of another of her wildly ineffective schemes against Snow White, and up to this moment, Rumplestiltskin had been humoring her. Now he didn't have the attention to spare. With his protection spell on the verge of breaking, he pushed his awareness down the thread of his magic and saw what the princess saw. _Nemesis!_

The girl was hopelessly outmatched. Even the Dark One would think twice, or three times, before picking such a fight. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but admire her courage, and he, who had always been a coward, resolved to save her if he could.

* * *

Belle clutched her crystal pendant and ran for her life. Darkness enveloped her. She ducked, feeling the scrape of talons narrowly missing her back, and twisted out of the way. A shadow took shape between them. A winged shadow with a long neck and horns — an insubstantial silhouette that resembled a Timer, but not one she knew.

The shadow surrounded her, passing through her like a ghost, but when the eagle reached for Belle, a dark force pushed it back. A quick, furious battle followed, and the shadow was beaten back, gaps of light ripped open to bleed darkness.

Then wings filled the sky again, and the two griffons fell upon Nemesis from behind. Three against one, the magical eagle was torn apart. A flash of light, a shrill wail, and it collapsed in a flurry of feathers and hollow bones. The shadow, too, vanished before Belle could get a good look at it.

Belle stared. "You... you killed it..."

_This embodiment, yes,_ said Eskereye, dabbing a paw at the pile of bones.

_It'll be months before she can incarnate again._ Otulissa padded over to Belle. _Come on. I'll fly you back to the top._

Belle brushed herself off and climbed onto the griffon. She could feel the bruises, but knew she was lucky to be alive. "Thanks. For everything. Is Lumiere...?"

_We were scattered in different directions,_ said Eskereye. _Naturally he is slower to find his way back than a griffon._

"I heard that." Lumiere half-fell, half-flew out of a shadow just as Otulissa dropped Belle off in the jumble of boulders at the top of the mountain. "But I am glad to find you still among the living. Griffons against the eagle of retribution — not odds I would wish to bet on."

_The Dark One helped,_ admitted Otulissa.

"I should think so," said Lumiere.

Belle heard the deep strain of worry behind his words, and felt a pang of guilt. She had dragged them all into danger, not understanding the risk. She wrapped her arms around herself, blood running cold at the thought. "I'm sorry. I could have got everyone killed."

"Yes, well, I hope it was worth it."

"Me, too," Belle said in a subdued voice. She picked her way through the rocks. Finding a level spot on the other side, she risked lifting her gaze from her feet to look around, and gasped.

A man, naked from the waist up, hung limply against a massive column, the chains wrapped around him keeping him upright with his hands locked above his head. A gaping wound marked the eagle's feast, a mess of blood and stray gobbets of viscera. His head lolled back, eyes shut.

_Passed out from the pain, I think,_ said Otulissa.

"We have to help him," whispered Belle. She started forward, but the griffons were faster.

_Ware traps,_ warned Eskereye, but this time there were none. Only a heavy, putrid stench of rotting blood and flesh. How long since the last rainfall had cleansed the prisoner?

Up close, he loomed over them, larger than human but not reaching the size of a full-grown ogre. The surface of the column was ridged and irregular, almost like—

"A tree. It's a tree!" Belle's eyes traced the chains to where they seemed to grow out of the trunk, almost like branches. She reached out to touch the bark, but it was hard and unyielding as stone. Before she could question it, a torrent of disjointed thoughts and images flooded her mind.

_This means it's love. True love._ It was almost her own voice, but layered with another, almost an echo. She saw a sapling that grew in her mind's eye to a tree as redolent of magic as those in Nevethe.

_I am now and for all the future yours._ A man's voice, familiar and not, again echoing with other voices, other words.

Then came a stab of pain and anger. _You've betrayed our future, and for what? These monsters who would supplant us? Zeus was right. I didn't want to believe him, but it's true. You lied to me._

_You don't understand! They have the potential—_

_What potential? Our children are the future, not this plague of mortal creatures who destroy everything they touch!_

_Please..._

_I will stop you, whatever it takes._

More pain. Blood on the tree.

_No!_

"No!" Belle wrenched herself away, blinking away the visions. Her legs suddenly wobbly, she sat down heavily.

Otulissa nudged her. _Told you to be careful._

"It's a true love tree," said Lumiere quietly, staring at the stone column.

"Like the ones in the Wood Beyond? But it's—" Belle swallowed, not wanting to say it.

"Dead. Petrified." Lumiere glanced at Belle. "Locked by true love's lifeblood. How else can a creature as powerful as a Titan be bound?"

"Love is a chain." The voice was hoarse, gutteral.

Belle looked up in shock to see that the Titan's eyes were open, boring into her, dark and edged with blood. "P-Prometheus?"

The Titan snarled at them, "Who sent you? Nevethe?"

"The Queen is bound not to meddle," Lumiere said meticulously. "The others owe her no allegiance, and as for me, let us say I am a tourist."

"Thousands of years, and she has not lost her taste for games?"

"Thousands of years, and have you lost your taste for rebellion?"

The Titan jerked his hands forward, twisting and straining against his bonds. His freshly healed wounds broke open, oozing new blood. The chains clanked and scraped against stone in shrill complaint but held as they had held for millennia. Finally he let his head loll forward, and whispered, "...thirsty. So thirsty..."

Belle scrambled forward with the enchanted water gourd, glad to have something concrete that she could do to help. "Here..." She climbed up on a boulder and leaned over to reach him, tipping the opening into his mouth. "Drink..."

It was a messy affair, most of the water seeming to run down his chin and torso or spilling straight to the ground, but at last he flung back his head. "Enough." Then he blinked at the gourd in Belle's hand. "Ha. I made that, a long time ago."

"Aurora did say it was an antique," Belle said. "Another of your gifts to...?"

Prometheus bared his teeth. "...to the monsters. Have you overrun the earth yet, little monster?"

"We're not..." Belle gulped, remembering the voices haunting the petrified tree. _Branches reaching out to bind the traitor..._ "Why did you do it? Why did you help humanity against your own kin?"

"Because your potential for evil exceeds even mine, so I thought I'd hand on the torch. So to speak." The Titan laughed, a grating horror of a laugh full of hatred and bitterness.

"No..." Belle staggered back, shaking her head. "I... I can't believe that. Evil?" She glanced at the griffons, then at Lumiere.

The flames in the Timer's eyes flickered uncertainly. "Certainly we are all capable of evil. As we are capable of good."

"And when he gave us fire, was that good or evil?" Fire warmed them, fire cooked their meat, but fire also killed and destroyed. It heated the forges for human tools, but what were weapons but tools for death? Belle looked at the Titan, wondering what his original intent had been. Just how much had he foreseen?

Prometheus grinned vilely at Belle. "Free me, little monster, and I will answer your question..."

Belle shuddered. Could she? Should she? "How do we break your chains?"

"You cannot." The Titan's eyes dropped from her face. "But you carry one of the tears of Nevethe. Touch it to the tree that binds me, and persuade her to let go..."

_He's dangerous,_ hissed Eskereye. _If you free him, we will not be able to bind him again._

Belle looked at the Titan's face, wondering which was the truth? Had he given humankind fire in order to warm them? Or to burn them? How could she tell?

* * *

Rumplestiltskin kept himself together long enough to dismiss Regina brusquely from his castle, then collapsed into bed as his magic crept back into his battered soul. Even with two griffons to distract the divine eagle, it had been touch and go for a few heart-stopping moments before he had brought it down.

_Weak. Stupid,_ taunted the darkness. _Trying to play hero? Pathetic. You're a monster, always will be. That will never change._

No, of course not. He didn't have the strength to push the darkness back, could only fight it with his determination to protect what was his. Possessiveness was something the darkness understood and encouraged.

_She's mine,_ he told himself. A lie to keep him halfway sane through the agony of his slowly healing wounds. A bit of light to grasp at through the darkness.

He remembered — a glimpse of eyes impossibly wide with terror, impossibly blue, set in a face too young, too brave, too kind to ever be _his_ in any way that truly mattered. He _knew_ that, yet his heart went out to her. He would do anything to ease her terror.

_It's you she should fear,_ sneered the darkness. _Will you tell her what happened to your first wife?_

Rumplestiltskin shuddered. Too weak to claw his way back to consciousness, he sank back into darkness. Deep in his bones, he felt the future slipping from his grasp, and he was swept inexorably forward into chaos.

* * *

Too dangerous. Eskereye was right. Belle had risked too much already and nearly gotten her friends killed. She couldn't let herself be blinded by a story in a book — books could be deceptive and writers could be mistaken. She shuddered at the malice she saw in the Titan's eyes, as if he knew what she was thinking. As she started to turn away, the Titan's voice arrested her.

"Little monster, wait." His voice grated against her conscience. "If you will not release me from my chains, then slay me. Death, too, is freedom..."

_Slay him?_ Belle spun back in shock, but covered her dismay with a near-flippant question. "If the eagle hasn't managed to kill you after thousands of years, what chance have I?"

"The chains that bind me can also kill me." Prometheus twisted his lips into a smile. "If she wills it."

The same as before, then. Belle looked helplessly at Lumiere. "What should I do?" She already knew what the griffons thought, but Lumiere had been strangely reticent since the Titan had awoken.

"I cannot choose for you, Belle," said Lumiere quietly. "I am bound by the decisions of the Queen, but you are not."

"But what if I make a mistake? Do I have the right? Whatever I decide could affect the whole world."

"You are here and they are not." Lumiere sighed. "'Who is he?' is one question. The other is, 'Who are you?'"

Belle gulped and nodded. "You mean, am I the kind of person who walks away from eternal suffering when I could end it?"

_At least make him promise to be good!_ Otulissa suggested.

_Make him promise not to hurt you or anyone you care about,_ said Eskereye. _It's better to be specific when making a deal._

Belle looked at the bound Titan. By the look on his face, he had no trouble understanding the griffon language. "Would you agree to that?"

"Would you trust me to keep my word?" countered Prometheus.

So it came down to the same thing in the end. There were no certainties in this world, only educated guesses. There was no evidence that Prometheus had ever directly harmed anyone, not even during the war between the Titans and the gods. She had seen his torment with her own eyes, met the eagle of his punishment. _He would rather die._ No matter what, she had to free him. But kill him?

No.

She nodded, decision made. She stepped forward again to the stone column where Prometheus was chained and took the crystal from around her neck and pressed it to the petrified bark. This time, she shut her eyes and braced herself for the onslaught of thoughts and memories.

At first she was trapped in the same vicious cycle of love, distrust, and betrayal — the shackles forged by the gods, she realized, manifested in the material world as the chains binding Prometheus. His true love had been slaughtered on this tree, her blood used to seal his heart. And because she was dead, she would never change her mind, never let him go.

Belle was alive. The crystal reflected that, but it was also part of this tree, as all the trees of the Wood Beyond were connected, no matter where they were or in what realm they grew. She eased herself into the hardened knot, slipping through the tangle of petrified memories. Her presence introduced the possibility of change to that which had remained unchanged for millennia.

_Let it go. Let HIM go. Enough is enough._ In the end, that was all it was. She understood time as a mortal, and that instinctive knowledge of endings infected the cycle and ground it to an eventual halt.

Belle opened her eyes to see the Titan stepping forward, his chains falling from him in a shower of rust. Before she could react, he had closed the distance between them and bent down to whisper in her ear.

"Here is the answer I promised, little monster." As he spoke, a blaze of heat shot through Belle's spine, and her heart juddered as if struck by lightning.

"Wha—?" Belle mouthed, all the air squeezed from her lungs. His answer?

Prometheus laughed darkly. Then he snapped his fingers and vanished in a plume of red smoke.

_Belle? Belle!_ The griffons crowded around her, and she wondered why she was looking _up_ at them.

Then she realized she was lying flat on her back, too stunned to move.

_What did he do to you?_ Otulissa's eyes were round with dismay. _Are you all right?_

"A gift of fire from heaven." That was Lumiere, a shadow at the edge of her vision. "Direct from his hands, this time, rather than through a grail."

"...?" Belle fought to get her breath back, wanting to demand more details.

"Magic."

* * *

Regina watched the girl through a mirror, the image distorted and hazy from the obfuscation spells surrounding her, but Regina's mastery of mirror magic had found Belle in the end. This insolent chit, this runaway princess of Avonlea, she had magic! That the Dark One claimed her as his future bride was well-worn gossip, and no threat to Regina's ambitions, but now it seemed she might displace the Evil Queen as Rumplestiltskin's apprentice.

How dare he! Regina was his star pupil. She was a queen. Who was this little nothing that so occupied his thoughts? Regina needed the Dark One focused on helping her achieve the ultimate revenge on Snow White, and this distraction was unacceptable.

Regina had killed before to secure her position with the Dark One. She could do it again. No. She only needed to make him _think_ she was dead. Regina could then keep this Belle in reserve, saved for some day when she desperately needed leverage against Rumplestiltskin. It would be more difficult than simply arranging a death, but potentially much more profitable, as long as she was careful about it.

Regina assembled the plan piece by piece over the following months. She acquired a magic-blocking leather cuff from a wandering peddler. She uncovered other witches and sorcerers who held grudges against the Dark One and researched their abilities. She found three who would serve her purpose admirably.

"Hell, yeah, that scaly bastard owes us for the Chernabog," agreed the sea witch Ursula. "But if you're not going to trade the girl back right away..."

"Best of both worlds, darling," noted Cruella. "He'll be out of our hair while he's off chasing the wildlife, and we'll have something to hold over him later."

"Exactly." Regina looked at Ursula. "So are you in?"

Ursula frowned. "I hear she has magic of her own. What if she escapes?"

"Oh, that won't be a problem." Regina dangled the leather cuff from her fingertips. "Thanks to this." She explained in more detail than she would have preferred, but Cruella insisted, and Regina needed her.

"I want to see this 'peddler' of yours," Cruella said at last.

"Why?"

Cruella shrugged. "I feel a shopping spree coming on."

Well, what harm could it do? Besides, Regina was curious to know what about the man had caught Cruella's interest. The side-trip was enlightening indeed, even if the peddler managed to escape at the last moment.

"I'll catch the miserable pipsqueak later," said Cruella darkly. "He can enjoy the anticipation until then."

To Regina's disappointment, her old friend Maleficent turned down her proposal.

"It's not your best idea, my dear." Maleficent had lost her fire again, it seemed, content to lurk in her cold fortress with only her pet unicorn for company. "You'll only antagonize the Dark One for no good reason."

"No good reason? He's meant to be teaching _me_ , not mooning over some disgrace of a princess." Regina glowered at Maleficent. "And after what happened in Bald Mountain, you deserve vengeance!"

Maleficent sighed. "Perhaps there is a debt, but I think I'll wait to collect it. When you get to my age, you understand the value of patience."

"Patience?" spat Regina. "Or have you just given up? Never mind. I don't need your help. I was merely doing you a favor by offering you this chance."

"Thank you, then, and I'll return the favor by reminding you that making enemies is counterproductive."

Regina rolled her eyes and stormed out in a cloud of magical smoke.

* * *

Once Regina was out of her domain, Maleficent stood up from her throne and called out, "You heard everything, Uncle?"

Prometheus stepped out of an archway and nodded to Maleficent. "I did. A pity you couldn't talk her out of it."

"Do you want me to protect the girl? After what she did for you..."

Prometheus chuckled maliciously. "No need. With what I've given her, and the Dark One in her corner, it's your Evil Queen who needs protection."

Maleficent nodded. "He defeated Nemesis. I... I didn't expect that. All these years, and I've never been powerful enough."

"Not your fault."

"Still, I regret that you had to endure such suffering."

"It doesn't matter. I'm free now."

"Freed by a human." Maleficent sighed. "One of fate's ironies. So was she a hero, or merely naive?"

Prometheus shook his head. "She made her decision as if I were one of her own kind, part of her community."

"So you made her part of yours?"

"No more than the Dark One had already done."

"Or what you did in the beginning, that turned the gods against you." Maleficent gave him a worried look. The gods were _still_ against him, and it was only a matter of time before they made their move, if they hadn't already.

"Yes, there is that." Prometheus smiled. "But I don't plan to stand alone. Thank you for your hospitality, my child, but it's time I moved on."

"Be careful." Maleficent had offered to go with him, but he had refused, claiming she would be more help to him in the mortal realms. So when the moon rose over the lake, she spilled her blood into the water to summon the ferryman for her uncle. In her long life, she had died more than once, having inherited immortality from her Titan grandfather, Prometheus's brother.

Now he went to seek more powerful allies than Maleficent from among those locked away in Tartarus since the dawn of time.

* * *

Belle returned to the Yrktheran capital after freeing the Titan. When nothing seemed amiss there, Belle decided that discretion would be the wiser course and kept to descriptions of the scenery and the weather when recounting her adventure to Mulan and the others. She had no wish to bring the wrath of gods or Titans down on their heads. Eventually they made their farewells and resumed their travels. Lumiere tutored Belle in the more practical aspects of magic.

"Well, at least the Dark One will not find it so easy to bully you," said the Timer.

"Would he do that?" Belle pressed him, since he rarely spoke openly of what Rumplestiltskin was _like_ , claiming it was better for her to form her own impression.

Lumiere shuffled uncomfortably, caught out. "Ah, that is to say, he can be... high-handed and... forget I said anything."

After that, further questioning proved useless.

Winter came early in the Skapsian highlands. The herds were moved down to shelter in the valleys, and with them came disputes and feuds. Belle found a disturbing amount of business in drawing gravestone inscriptions and formal truces. The Skapsians held a reverence for their runes, gifted to them by gods and seers and supposedly imbued with mystical properties. Belle, despite her new gift of magic, kept herself to mundane writing as befit an ordinary member of the guild. Otherwise, she had the usual requests to pass letters and messages between villages and encampments.

After delivering a letter to a woodcutter living out at the edge of the village, Belle stepped outside to find that it had begun snowing again. At least she had plenty of daylight left, and could make the trek back to the inn in time to catch the end of Lumiere's show. She hadn't walked far when she saw a spotted white puppy looking at her. It was adorable, but—

"Oh dear. You'll freeze to death out here!" Belle looked around for any sign of its mother, or associated human, to no avail. "Where did you wander from?"

She crouched down to pick it up, but the puppy scampered away playfully.

"I was just going to take you to the inn to see if anyone recognized you," Belle explained, taking a slow step closer. The puppy bounced away again, then stopped and wagged its tail. "No, wait!"

She went after the puppy, but it zipped this way and that, then darted into the woods. "Hey, where are you going?"

Worried that the poor creature would get lost and find an icy death in the snow, Belle followed it into the woods. Lumiere hadn't taught her any dog-taming spells, and she didn't want to scare the puppy by picking it up with magic. And perhaps the puppy was simply headed home. Belle looked around for any sign of habitation.

The woods were open and inviting at first, not much different from the ones in Avonlea, but gradually the paths and coppiced trees gave way to wilder growth and thicker tangles of brush, such that Belle worried that she would lose sight of the puppy. But no, the puppy had finally come to a halt, having found something to sniff at in the snowy ground.

Belle approached gently, saying in what she hoped was a low, soothing voice, "What do you have there, hmm?" Distracted by whatever it had found, the puppy allowed Belle to pick it up. It whined at being taken away from its toy. "Oh, leave it, silly."

She imagined what dogs might find enticing and shuddered, remembering the time Gaston had handed her a dead bird. She was about to turn away when a flash of reflected sunlight caught her eye. That was no dead animal! Curious, Belle bent down, puppy under one arm, and brushed away the snow with her free hand to reveal a mirror. Startled, she met her own gaze in the reflection with a jolt. She just had time to wonder who in the village could afford something like that—

—when something snapped shut around her outstretched wrist. Everything went numb. From behind her, she heard someone say, "Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here, _Lacey_..."

* * *

It was getting dark and cold, and Lumiere was doing his best not to panic. If he panicked, so would the griffons, and then where would they be?

"There is nothing to worry about," he insisted. "She has magic and she has the protection of the Dark One."

None of which explained why Belle hadn't shown up at the inn, nor why her tracks in the snow led into the woods and didn't return. Or why she would wander off into the Infinite Forest.

_Maybe she was hunting._ Eskereye pointed at the other smaller set of prints, almost erased by falling snow.

_She could have waited for us,_ complained Otulissa.

_To be fair, maybe she wanted to make the kill herself,_ said Eskereye. _Not much chance of that with us there!_

_Not our fault she's slow and clumsy._

"Be nice," admonished Lumiere, but he could tell they were secretly just as worried as he was. Then he saw the wolves ahead and everything else flew out of his mind.

_Blood in the snow!_ The griffons took off in a flurry of wings, ascending rapidly. _It's Belle! She's down!_

The next thing he knew, he had charged into the midst of the wolves, biting and tearing at them as if he was a wild beast himself. He was only vaguely aware of the griffons diving for the pack, and the wolves leaping to engage them.

No, no, this was wrong. Lumiere tried to pull his thoughts together. These were no ordinary wolves, they were shifters, which meant he needed... needed... needed to extract himself from this futile melee. But the wolves had no such hesitation. They had surrounded him and had their teeth in his wings, and almost at his throat before he twisted away in the nick of time. He had to get free of them, so he could _think_ , but the compulsion to fight overrode his sanity.

_Escape!_ They had to flee before the wolves ripped them to pieces. Before it was too late for Belle (if it wasn't already, Nevethe help them). Lumiere dug his hind claws into the last long shadows of the day, pulling frantically at the darkness. Darkness. Light. He reached out with the last of his concentration to the griffons, to Belle, and grabbed with all his strength.

They fell out of the world. One. Two. Three... but the fourth slipped out of his grasp.

_Belle!_

* * *

"He didn't check in yesterday," Cogsworth reported, and Rumplestiltskin didn't have to ask who he meant.

"Drinking and gambling the night away, no doubt..." said Rumplestiltskin, thinking of Milah. No, that wasn't fair — Milah had despised him, whereas Lumiere and Cogsworth shared a mutual respect and love he dared not even dream of.

_Milah wanted you dead,_ taunted the darkness. _Do you hope for better from this princess with her light magic and heroic aspirations?_

Cogsworth glared at him indignantly. "I doubt it very much! He requires his full faculties for his juggling routine... oh." He sighed in a put-upon fashion. "Ha ha, very droll. But not helpful at all."

Rumplestiltskin inclined his head in apology. "You're right. Where did you see him last?"

The inn in the Skapsian village was a quiet, humble affair. There was no sign of trouble, nor had the protection spell on Belle's crystal been triggered. Her horse was in the stable, but her room was empty.

_She's finally come to her senses and made a run for it,_ the darkness cackled. _You'll never see her again._

Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth against the thought of another abandonment — he had never had her to begin with, he told himself. "I can trace her through the crystal."

Cogsworth nodded.

Magic led them into the Infinite Forest, where a gruesome sight greeted them. Blood stained the snow, blood and feathers in a churned up battlefield with its edges barely smoothed over by a blanket of new-fallen snow. And there, half-covered, a mangled body... a human body.

"No!" Rumplestiltskin dashed forward in shock. It couldn't be. Yet there, gleaming dimly under a layer of white, the crystal pendant. He instinctively summoned it to his hand. There was no mistake. It was the twin to his own, Belle's crystal, the ends of the broken chain hanging off his palm.

Cogsworth cried out in alarm, dropping back into his natural form to search the area. "Lumiere! Eskereye! Otulissa!"

Rumplestiltskin trembled, staring at the body. Snow whirled in a storm of magic as his anger and shock was too much to contain. A face was revealed, mangled beyond recognition, but the hair was the right color and length, and the body was...

"It's her," he whispered, unable to deny the truth. He let the pendant drop onto her chest, his fingers twitching with the urge to reduce her to dust. _A clean escape!_ Then he thought better of it. Her mother deserved better. He waved his hand and sent her to a vault in the Dark Castle where she would be preserved from decay until he could return her to Avonlea.

"Wolves." Cogsworth had circled back, his initial inspection complete. "This place reeks of their scent. Wolf shifters..."

Rumplestiltskin growled. Wolf shifters were the kings of the Infinite Forest, incredibly strong and quick, and shielded by magic strong enough to shrug off almost any attack. They took human form sometimes, whether to mingle with the villagers or to lure unwary travellers to their deaths. All other beasts feared them, not daring to lay a tooth on any prey marked by the wolves. No crows or ravens pecked at the corpse, a small mercy.

"But why would they kill her and then leave the meat to rot?" wondered Cogsworth.

"For fun? To send a message?" Rumplestiltskin didn't care. He couldn't let this stand. "Or because they gorged themselves already on Timer and griffon?"

"They aren't dead!"

Rumplestiltskin scoffed angrily. "If they abandoned Belle... they damned well _will_ be. Once I deal with the wolves."

"No, wait. There's something not right here. The pieces don't fit..."

"You don't say." An impish laugh burst free. "So much for the foresight of the Wood Beyond!" He had been a fool, a gullible fool, to believe that Nevethe could or would help him. And now an innocent girl had paid for his mistake...

_There is no hope for you._

No, there was still the Dark Curse, and the curse caster promised by his vision. But first he would collect Belle's blood price from the wolves. He owed her that much at least. He turned away from Cogsworth and sniffed out the trail of magic and violence left by the wolves.

"It could be a trap." Cogsworth jumped in front of him. "Please reconsider..."

"Don't care." If it was a trap, so much the worse for whoever thought they could trap the Dark One. "Either help me or get the hell out of my way."

Cogsworth choose the latter option.

It didn't take long to find the wolves. They must have had some inkling of their doom, and some sense of loyalty to their own — what must have been every adult member of the pack came out to face his challenge.

Nine wolves against the Dark One. It was laughable.

"You should have kept your predations to sheep," sneered Rumplestiltskin. He lifted his hands, snow flying from the ground and the trees to coalesce into lines of white that spun through his fingers into something shiny and metallic. Straw into gold wasn't the only transmutation in his repertoire. Snow became ice became silver — deadly to werewolves and wolf shifters alike.

They knew what he held. Nevertheless, they charged forward as if they thought they could harm him.

Rumplestiltskin loosed the storm of power that had been raging in his heart ever since he had found the corpse in the snow. Silver needles flashed. Wolves screamed and fell, hearts pierced by silver. Rumplestiltskin half expected them to transform, to take human form and beg for mercy, but they died in silence, one by one.

The darkest part of his soul delighted in their pain, but now that the worst of his rage had been expended, another thought slithered into his mind.

_It was too easy._

Silver? Everyone knew about that weakness. Lumiere had magic. Was he incapable of summoning silver when needed? Even Belle should have been able... and the protection spell hadn't triggered. The wolves didn't have the power to block the Dark One's magic, or they would have saved themselves instead of dying at his feet.

Rumplestiltskin stared blankly. One or two of the wolves writhed feebly, clinging to life. He couldn't be bothered to finish them off.

"Cogsworth!" Without waiting for a reply, Rumplestiltskin transported himself back to the Dark Castle. A moment later, the Timer joined him. "You were right. The pieces don't fit..."

A calmer, more meticulous examination of the corpse revealed the truth.

"A mirror spell." Rumplestiltskin cursed under his breath at having missed it before, but in fact, he had almost missed it even now. The spell was subtly constructed, seamlessly matched to a name that belonged to this body. "This _is_ Belle. But not _our_ Belle."

Another dead body to his account, then. A commoner, someone with no wealth or power to protect her, sacrificed pointlessly because she happened to share a name with someone the Evil Queen had targeted. He would have to look for her family, later.

Cogsworth met his eyes. "A vile trick. You know who is responsible, do you not?"

Rumplestiltskin growled between his teeth, " _Regina_."

"Your student."

His student. Rumplestiltskin shook his head. He should have known it would come to this. If he acted against Regina, went to rescue Belle, then the Evil Queen would know where he stood — not as her friend or her ally, but as her open enemy. She would never cast the curse for him.

Nevethe had offered him hope, but no certainty, as today proved when Cogsworth had been as convinced as Rumplestiltskin that Belle was dead. Could he trust his future, trust _Bae's_ future to this uncertain path? If he abandoned Belle, cut his losses, he still had time to find another way to save his son.

But what would his son say when he found out that his father had left an innocent girl to suffer and perhaps die (that was the most likely outcome for a discarded pawn) at the hands of the Evil Queen?

_You've always been a coward, and he knows it. Bae will look at you the same way he did before... with contempt!_

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, remembering the expression on Bae's face when Hordor forced the spinner to kneel and kiss his boots.

_You cost him his mother, twice over,_ the darkness reminded him. _You broke your word to him. You abandoned him. He was never going to forgive you._

Then he remembered the expression on Belle's face when the eagle attacked. Terrified, but resolute. Kind enough to want to free a monster, and brave enough to take the risk. He wished he could match that courage and kindness. That was who his son deserved, not someone ruled by fear and darkness.

Rumplestiltskin took a breath, then looked at Cogsworth. "My student? Not anymore, she isn't."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang, it's been a while. Sorry! I should be posting more regularly now. (I was hoping to finish the first draft for NaNoWriMo 2020, then hoping to finish in December, then... you know how it goes...)

* * *

"A party! How delightful!" Rumplestiltskin didn't bother with gates or gate guards. He stepped straight out of the shadows into the banquet hall of Regina's castle. She wasn't there, but Ursula was, sampling the feast laid out for guests who had already met a grisly end.

"You!" Ursula tossed a half-eaten slice of venison at him. It missed, falling instead onto one of the corpses littering the floor, by the look of him a nobleman without the sense to avoid an invitation from the Evil Queen.

Rumplestiltskin grinned, lifting a hand to throw the sea witch across the table with a burst of magic force, dishes and crockery flying everywhere. "But I find your celebration a wee bit premature. Stealing from the Dark One? A fatal mistake."

"I don't know what the hell you're on about," said Ursula, lurching back upright in a swirl of tentacles.

"Yes, you do, dearie." Rumplestiltskin curled his fingers and squeezed. Ursula choked and rose into the air.

"Gatecrashing again? Sad little man, never invited to the best parties." A tall, slender woman with striking black and white hair stepped out of an alcove.

Without dropping Ursula, Rumplestiltskin turned to the new arrival. "Cruella! Thought I caught a whiff of gin and desperation."

Cruella snapped her fingers. Two tigers slunk out from behind her, feline eyes nailed on Rumplestiltskin. "Now run along, Dark One, before Fluffy and Moppet decide it's playtime."

"Cat and mouse games?" sneered Rumplestiltskin. A wave of his other hand sent the tigers into a deep slumber. He had already deduced Cruella's involvement with the wolves, and prepared the spell before his invasion. "I don't think so."

Without her animal minions, Cruella had little magic of her own. Rumplestiltskin had been careful to keep to his more human form, and warned Cogsworth to stay out of her way. Soon Rumplestiltskin had both Ursula and Cruella by the throats.

In her desperation, Ursula managed to free herself enough to choke out a sentence. "She isn't dead, but she will be if..."

"Regina," hissed Rumplestiltskin. "Regina has her..." And must have fled with her hostage.

"And your little bride will be dead before you catch up to her," Cruella found her voice in Rumplestiltskin's moment of distraction. "Oh, look at that face. What's a prank or two between friends?"

"Tell me where she went!"

"Should we let him sweat a bit more, Ursula, darling?"

"He deserves it, after leaving us to the Chernabog," growled Ursula.

Rumplestiltskin felt the balance of magic shift as they named the debt. He _couldn't_ kill them now without incurring a backlash from fate because he had wronged them at Bald Mountain. He couldn't afford to waste the energy to fend off whatever unexpected consequence fate might throw at him, not when Belle's life was imperiled, so he nodded. "Fine. Tell me where Belle is, and you two can keep your wretched lives."

"Regina thinks I don't know," Ursula said at last, the bargain sealed only after a show of bluster and gratuitous insults. "But nothing that touches the sea is hidden from my kin..."

* * *

Cogsworth met him on the desolate hilltop outside the castle. "No sign of them."

"Keep looking. I've sent Ursula and Cruella on their way," said Rumplestiltskin.

"...alive?" Cogsworth sounded faintly surprised.

"They may be useful later." The last thing he needed was for people to think he'd lost his edge, so he added, "If they get in my way again, it's easy enough to kill them. They told me where Regina took Belle. They didn't mention anything of Lumiere or the griffons."

"There was no trace of their scent anywhere in this vicinity," said Cogsworth. "I suspect they may not have been taken at all."

"That's as may be, but Belle can't wait. She's in danger every moment the Evil Queen has her."

"But the Evil Queen is no match for the Dark One," Cogsworth pointed out. "You find Belle. I will seek insight from the Wood for the others."

"Fine." Rumplestiltskin conceded the logic of Cogsworth's plan, and the two parted ways.

According to Cruella and Ursula, Regina had taken refuge in a sea-washed fortress off the coast of Yrkandos. It had been abandoned when the shoreline had eroded and the border shifted farther to the west. It was little more than a ruin now, but the constantly moving salt water around it had magnified the effect of Regina's wards, strongly enough that Rumplestiltskin might never had found it without help.

Luckily for him, Cruella and Ursula were no more loyal to Regina than they were to anyone except each other, a dark partnership that Rumplestiltskin had no interest in prying into. Even so, he made sure that he hadn't been followed, and took the time to check for traps and ambushes before venturing in. One mistake, and Belle could die between one heartbeat and the next.

Regina had grown overconfident, thought Rumplestiltskin as he picked an invisible hole between the weave of her protection spells. She was skilled, but did she really think she could get away with this? Not this time!

He found her and caught her in a dank corridor in the dungeons. Water pooled on the floor and dripped from the ceiling. The roar of the surf drowned out the angry words they flung at each other, until finally Rumplestiltskin closed in and wrapped his hand around her throat, while her hand gripped what she thought was Belle's heart. Belle herself lay unconscious in the cell beside them, sealed off with magic too powerful to break through before a heart could be crushed.

"Stop!" gasped Regina, her face a mask of steel, with only a hint of fear in her eyes. He didn't need to read lips to comprehend the next words from her mouth: "Or the wench dies..." Her fingers tightened around the soft, red lump.

Rumplestiltskin laughed. "You think you can save yourself? After what you've done?" He wrapped the fingers of his free hand around the one that held the heart. "You think you can stop me?"

"I know you, Rumple," hissed Regina. "Under that scaly exterior, you're weak enough to think you can love someone. My mother told me—"

"Shut up!" Rumplestiltskin cut off the rest of her air supply, but the defiant smirk wasn't so easily silenced. "You think you have leverage over me?" He closed his hand suddenly, the Dark One's strength easily crushing both Regina's fingers and what they held. Regina's eyes widened in shock and pain. When he loosened his fist, dust leaked out in a fine stream. "You have nothing..." Savoring the terror now in her eyes, Rumplestiltskin eased his grip slightly. "...except your last words. Anything to say, dearie?"

"You... monster."

"No, no, try something more original," Rumplestiltskin taunted.

"You... you don't want to kill me." Regina recovered enough of her poise to spit out the words loudly enough to be heard over the sea.

"On the contrary, I think I'll enjoy it very much." He increased the pressure again.

"I have information. Valuable information about the Author!" she shouted.

"The what?" The question slipped out before he could school his face into cold indifference.

Regina saw his ignorance, and pounced. "Oh, I'm not talking about your common, garden variety scribbler, but _the_ Author, the one whose pen controls our destinies."

"You're lying."

"Haven't you ever wondered why fate seems set on punishing certain people? It's because someone else is writing your story." Regina's eyes now gleamed with triumph. "He's the only one who can write you a happy ending."

"Villains don't get happy endings," Rumplestiltskin said flatly, knowledge carved deep in his bones, but he couldn't help wondering.

"Well, you certainly won't, not unless you can persuade the Author to change your story," Regina purred.

"L-lies," stammered Rumplestiltskin. _Bae? What if it's true? What if he can save Bae?_ "If he's so powerful, you would have commissioned your own happiness!"

"Not even the Author can bring back the dead," Regina said more somberly, unable to hide the misery behind rage. "What was it you like to say? 'Dead is dead.'"

"Ah." And not only said it, he had gone to great pains to demonstrate it to her.

Regina took a deep breath, her skin shivering under his loosened grip. "But you, it's different for you, isn't it? Is there a story you'd like to change?"

"Of course not," snapped Rumplestiltskin, but he knew she didn't believe him. "Still, I am curious. Who is this Author? Where can I find him?"

"That's something of a secret. A _valuable_ secret." As Rumplestiltskin's fingers tightened again, Regina warned him, "The kind of secret one takes to the grave!"

"Tell me!" He shook her with tooth-rattling violence, the darkness wanting to rend her limb from limb and rip the information from her heart, but he knew she would go to dust before telling him.

"Promise," she choked out. "Promise you won't kill me, and I'll tell you his name and where I met him last."

"Agreed," he ground out at last, dropping her with no more warning than that.

Regina staggered back, rubbing at her throat. "He calls himself Isaac Heller."

"And how did you happen to meet him?"

Regina shrugged. "Cruella and he have something of a history, it seems. We found him at the Wren's Nest tavern in the Sherwood Forest."

Rumplestiltskin gave her a long look, still half-convinced she was lying. But if she wasn't, that could mean everything he had hoped for. He could change what he had seen in his visions. He need no longer rely on the dangled promises of the Wood Beyond. He could free Belle to live the life she deserved: she had long since repaid the price of saving Avonlea from the ogres with her years in the shadow of the Dark One's name.

On that thought, he unraveled the spell keeping Belle prisoner and teleported her to safety.

Regina gave him a look. "Planning a nice funeral for her? You really _are_ a monster."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "Oh, she isn't dead."

"Impossible!"

"Someday, if things go well, perhaps I'll teach you about a trick I learned from my father, that he called 'Follow the Lady'." He paused for a moment, then said darkly, "If things don't go well, or if you dare threaten or harm Belle again, the only thing you'll be learning is how much pain is possible for one soul to suffer as they burn in hell." He transported himself away, not bothering to wait for Regina's reply.

* * *

Belle woke up in confusion, opening her eyes to darkness and cold, still air. She lifted a hand towards her face, but her arm was lighter than expected and she hit herself in the nose. "Ow!" Even her voice sounded strange.

She lowered her arm cautiously. Why had she thought it would be heavier? Then she remembered. _The shackles!_

Shackles? She shook her head, trying to clear it. She summoned light to her hand, the small globe illuminating a familiar room, one much the same as a hundred others she had stayed in. She recognized the painting on the wall as a Skapsian landscape. The brazier under the table was dark, its fuel consumed hours ago as far as she could tell. She was in the inn in Skapsia, not a crumbling fortress. She was on a bed, not a muddy stone floor.

Had it all been a dream (a nightmare)? The memory was vivid. She had been a prisoner, chained to the wall, her senses numbed from whatever force blocked her magic. A woman had come to gloat, her voice brimming with barely restrained murder. _Regina_. The Evil Queen of the White Kingdom. She must have known who Belle was all along — if it had been real.

"Lumiere? Otulissa? Eskereye?" No answer, and no sign of their presence. Then she saw the cuts and bruises on her wrists and gasped. _Shackle marks?_ But the leather band was gone, the one stitched with sigils of power. A strange numbness had emanated from it, deadening her magic. She remembered, then, calling out for Rumplestiltskin.

He hadn't answered. Or had he? She was here and not in the cold, wet dungeon. Belle touched her sleeve to her nose, closing her eyes and sniffing. She smelled traces of salt water, sea air, in the cloth. It was real. It had happened. She looked around the room, the room that wasn't a dungeon cell, and a glint of metal caught her eye. There, hanging around the bedpost behind her, her crystal pendant. _The queen took it from me_ , she remembered. Someone had returned it to her.

"Rumplestiltskin?" Belle whispered the name tentatively. When no one answered, she slipped the chain back around her neck. "If it was you... then thank you. Thank you for saving me."

Nothing.

Belle sighed. She could feel traces of his presence when she touched the crystal. Who did he think he was fooling? Why wouldn't he talk to her? What had happened to the Evil Queen? Surely she wouldn't have allowed her prisoner to be taken without a fight. What had happened to her companions? Belle had been alone in her cell, and Regina hadn't said anything about any others.

She glanced at the window to see that the sky was beginning to turn light, and the first stirrings of the day could faintly be heard from outside. She eventually made her way downstairs to speak with the innkeeper, to find that days (days!) had gone by, but someone had already paid for the room and the stabling of her horse. It hadn't been Lumiere. Further questioning revealed that neither he nor his 'pet griffons' had been during Belle's absence.

Belle remembered Lumiere's magic lessons and decided to try a basic divination spell. She had accumulated her own small map collection, as was the practice for any self-respecting scribe-messenger in the guild. She didn't have anything belonging to her friends, but she wrote their names on pieces of paper, which she folded up into origami birds. But no matter which map she tried, the birds refused to settle. She fell asleep somewhere into her third time going through the maps.

Daylight found her trudging through the woods, retracing the path she had taken before. The snow had erased all traces of her passage, but by now Belle had trained herself to remember a path once trod. It was a matter of pride for guild members not to get lost no matter what obscure hamlet they were sent to.

This time around, she noticed when the forest changed around her. _The Infinite Forest._ Belle suppressed a shudder at her own carelessness. This time around, she had also taken the time to cast a few protection spells on herself before venturing out. Finding the spot where she had fallen into the Evil Queen's trap, she set up the components of the divination spell again.

Before she could cast it again, familiar voices called out to her from through the trees.

"Belle! What are you doing out here again?" It was Lumiere, followed by Cogsworth, Otulissa, and Eskereye. "You will be catching your death of the cold."

"Looking for you," Belle said, a bewildered smile growing on her face. "I thought the Evil Queen had taken you."

"We are not such easy meat for the wolves," said Lumiere proudly.

_We ran away_ , admitted Otulissa. _We thought you were dead..._

"A trick. Did I not say so?" huffed Lumiere. His eyes gleamed in relief. "But even so I am glad to see you with the breath still in you."

_Not much use in saying things, when you can't do anything about it_ , Eskereye perched on a branch above them. _Got us lost in a mold-infested shadow labyrinth for months, didn't you?_

"Months?" Belle squeaked in alarm.

"Months for them, mere days for you," said Cogsworth. "Our Queen has mastery of the threads of time where our people are concerned, and these two griffons have been to Nevethe, so they were able to tag along on sufferance."

"In the event, you were the one in danger, Belle," said Lumiere. "Cogsworth told me what happened. It is good to be seeing you safe and well."

Cogsworth looked around. "Where's Rumplestiltskin? Shouldn't he be here?"

Belle frowned. "I haven't seen him at all. Was he here? Rude of him to poof away without even a hello. I hope he isn't like that after we get married!"

Cogsworth and Lumiere exchanged glances, and small sighs.

"One would hope not," agreed Cogsworth. "I'll have a word in his ear. Well. Until later, then." He vanished into the shadows.

After that, they decided to put more space between themselves and the Evil Queen.

"Besides, I'm sick of cold and snow," said Belle. "Let's go to Opona." Opona was a kingdom to the south, on the other side of the Middle Sea. Her guild wasn't recognized there, but the sunny climate and exotic cuisine were worth it. Winter in the north meant endless salt meat and tubers and pickled vegetables, but in Opona, fresh produce was available year-round.

* * *

Having made sure that Belle was safe, Rumplestiltskin turned his thoughts to the Author. He had heard rumors of such a thing, but dismissed it as a fanciful personification of fate, much like the three sisters sometimes called the Morai. If it was possible to speak or bargain with them, he had never succeeded, and not for lack of trying. But Regina claimed to have spoken to the man. No doubt it was a trick, if not on her part than on this so-called Author's. It wouldn't be the first time she had fallen for an illusion, after all.

_Fate's power is real enough_ , came the resentful whisper of the darkness. _Meddle with it at your peril._

_Speaking from experience?_ wondered Rumplestiltskin.

The darkness muttered and growled, throwing up indistinct memories from his predecessors. Rumplestiltskin had wished for such power ever since a Seer's words had changed the course of his life and even more so now, after seeing the visions of his son's death, but that was one wish beyond his reach. Only the gods had the power to forge instruments capable of manipulating fate, the Shears of Destiny being the prime example. Too bad they were lost, and by their nature impervious to any seeking magic. It was remotely possible that the Author was, or wielded, another such divine instrument. Rumplestiltskin couldn't discount the possibility, or the possibility that Nevethe had hidden the knowledge from him in order to manipulate him.

He waited until Cogsworth was otherwise occupied, then slipped away to the Sherwood Forest where Isaac Heller had last been spotted. The man wore the guise of a common peddler, but otherwise made little attempt to hide his tracks. Rumplestiltskin followed his trail from inn to village to inn through the Sherwood Forest across the border to a market town in the Maritime Kingdom. Rumplestiltskin hid his face under his hood and watched Isaac from a dark corner of the tavern.

He was engaged in a drunken game of cards, and by the look of him, no more honest than Rumplestiltskin's own father. Chance turned Isaac's gaze in the Dark One's direction. Rumplestiltskin saw him turn and mutter something to his companions, then slip away. He wouldn't get far, thought Rumplestiltskin. Not with the spell cutting the tavern off from the outside world. There would be no escape out the back door.

After a moment, Rumplestiltskin stood up and followed Isaac. After another moment, he forgot his errand completely, the spell silently dissipating as if it had never been. What was he doing here in the back of the inn? Was it only to empty his bladder against a wall?

That done, his thoughts turned back to the purpose of his expedition. His pair of lovebirds, so painstakingly cultivated, had fled their nest. Snow White's face was plastered through all the kingdoms of the Enchanted Forest over a price in gold, and her Prince Charming, the ersatz James, had been disowned by his adoptive father. He wasn't a complete idiot, which was why he had smuggled his mother out of Prydania to the remote backlands of the Maritime Kingdom.

Rumplestiltskin's original plan was past salvaging. Curse caster or not, he would not stand for Regina threatening his family. _His family?_ When had he started thinking of Belle as his family?

_She has a family already, and it doesn't include you. She doesn't love you. She doesn't even know you._

Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth against his own dark thoughts. He was here to see if the runaway royals could be any use to him. Regina could still be manipulated indirectly. There was still a chance.

The shepherd prince had settled his mother into a farm in a mountain valley, one prosperous enough to hire extra workers. He and his princess stayed just long enough to get married in a commoner's hand-fasting ceremony. Rumplestiltskin watched from a distance, hidden under a glamour as an ordinary farmhand. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the sight.

He shook off the thought. What was there to envy? They parted the next week from the only family left to them, for fear that their presence would be a danger. Regina and George had a long reach: a promise of gold could turn a stranger or a friend into a traitor, and while George couldn't spare the gold, his spies and assassins were among the best in the realm.

Rumplestiltskin left them to their fugitive lives and returned himself to the Dark Castle. A few months later they turned up on his doorstep. Rumplestiltskin had long ago set enchanted paths through the Infinite Forest to let prospective clients find their way from any kingdom in the Enchanted Forest to the Dark Castle — if they were desperate enough. Each of them had visited him before, separately, but this time they came together to demand the Dark One's assistance.

"We heard you've broken with Regina," Snow White said. "And you've helped us before..."

"For a price, dearie!" Rumplestiltskin paused his spinning to turn and grin wickedly at her. "I hope you're not here to waste my time again."

Snow White scowled at him, her hand going to her throat, even though she wore no necklace for him to snatch this time. "I'm here for the sake of my kingdom. The longer it takes to defeat the Queen, the more people will suffer."

Rumplestiltskin glanced at the prince. "Why don't you ask your dear father for help? His army is by all accounts far superior to Regina's."

"He's no father to me," David said grimly.

Rumplestiltskin tittered. "Oh dearie dear, how unfortunate!"

"George may have a better army, but Regina has magic." Snow glared at the Dark One accusingly. "Magic _you_ taught her."

Rumplestiltskin twirled a hand. "Shame to let talent go to waste. How she uses it is up to her."

"She uses it to murder people!"

"Tch. And you want me to stop her?" Rumplestiltskin considered the fragments of the future he had glimpsed. Regina wouldn't be queen for much longer, but what part would he play in her fall? He had already taught her the folly of trying to play the hostage game against him, and only left her alive because she might be useful to him later. (If he had ever had another reason, he no longer remembered it.) He hopped to his feet and turned to face the two primary targets of Regina's ire, pondering possibilities.

"She's trying to murder Snow." David shifted forward protectively in front of his wife.

"Hmm." Their love blazed to Rumplestiltskin's sight, a power that could move worlds. He had finally succeeded in bottling the magic of that love, which was half of what he had wanted from them. As for the other half — a Savior to break the darkest of curses — he only needed them alive. "And Georgie-boy is trying to murder both of you, yes, yes. Tell you what, you can become citizens of Schlaraffenland and you'll naturally be under my protection. Quite, quite safe!"

"No!" Snow White looked horrified. "We'll never sell our souls to darkness."

David nodded firmly. "Of course not."

Rumplestiltskin gasped in mock offense. "Please. All the souls in my care are well looked-after, which is more than I can say for some deities I could name!"

"We won't stand here and listen to such blasphemy," said Snow firmly.

"Then by all means, have a seat!" Rumplestiltskin twirled a hand, conjuring two wooden chairs to his 'audience chamber', which with its bookshelves and spinning wheel and work benches had more the feel of an alchemist's lab or study than a nobleman's receiving room.

Snow White and David eyed the chairs warily, declining to sit down.

"Not to your liking?" twittered Rumplestiltskin. "Looking for something more _majestic_ to rest your royal bottoms on? The throne of the White Kingdom?"

David opened his mouth.

"Na na na! If that's what you _twuly_ desire, that can be arranged. At a price."

"What price?" asked Snow.

"Why, nothing more than your firstborn child. Your _heir_." Rumplestiltskin cackled with glee. It wasn't a serious offer, not for these two, who were far too _heroic_ for such a trade.

"Never." David's hand went to the hilt of his sword.

Rumplestiltskin ignored the implied threat. "Your mother wasn't so squeamish, and lucky for you she wasn't."

"Don't listen to him, Charming," snapped Snow. "I've heard the stories. This is how Cockayne fell under the shadow of the Dark One. I'll never let that happen to the White Kingdom!"

"There was a _bit_ more to the story than that," murmured Rumplestiltskin, but he could see the royal visitors were not in any frame of mind to listen. "But if you want the throne for yourselves, then it's up to you to take it and hold it."

"You refuse to help us, then?" asked David.

"No help, no hindrance," said Rumplestiltskin with a wave of his hand. "It's not the Dark One's role to play kingmaker, dearie." If people would just think for half a minute, they ought to know better than to play this game. If the Dark One could be bought to overthrow one king or queen, what was to stop the next would-be ruler from buying his services as well? There was a reason traitors tended to die soon after the regimes they betrayed. The Dark One wasn't so easily killed, but no one who owed their rule to him would ever sit comfortably upon the throne.

Snow frowned. "The Frontlands and Cockayne were free kingdoms once. Now they're part of your 'Schlaraffenland'."

"Free?" Rumplestiltskin chuckled darkly. "That depends on one's point of view. If you're here to overthrow the Dark One's rule..."

"Not today, but good always triumphs over evil in the end," declared Snow White. "Come on, Charming, we don't need his help. We'll find another way."

"Yes, yes, of course you will." Rumplestiltskin shooed them to the exit. "Give my regards to Regina!"

* * *

"I don't understand," complained Snow White once they were (presumably) out of earshot of the Dark One, here on the road that led down to the village in the valley beneath the castle. "He was willing to help me before, when I wanted to kill the queen. He gave me an enchanted bow."

"Which you shot me with," David reminded her. "He's the Dark One. He was trying to darken your heart..."

Snow White sighed, thinking it had to be more than that. "Then why did he tell you where to find me?"

"Who knows what's in that twisted mind of his?"

"Nothing good, no doubt," said Snow White. "He did steal my mother's necklace last time, when I thought you had made a deal with him for Excalibur."

David's eyes lit up. "But I hadn't. Everything we did, we did on our own that time. Remember? You almost surrendered to your stepmother, but we showed you that we could fight back. And we did, together."

"And then King George sent his soldiers after us, and now all our friends are scattered and in hiding." Snow White clung to hope as best she could, but every ally had been whittled away one by one, until she had thought the Dark One was their best chance of victory. Now that was gone, too.

"What about the fairies? They've helped your family before, haven't they?"

Snow White shook her head. "It's all they can do to keep our friends from being slaughtered. They aren't powerful enough to take on armies directly."

"We can rebuild ours." David nodded at the village they were fast approaching. "Surely there are people here who want to be free of the Dark One. If they join with us, we can offer them a place in your kingdom, Snow."

"If we win it back from my stepmother." Snow took a breath, forcing herself to have faith.

"And we will." David smiled, taking her hand. "What was it you told me? Hope is a powerful thing, and not even the Evil Queen can take that away from us."

"You're right, Charming." Snow looked at the pair of beggars lounging by the village gates. The village walls were old and crumbling, the watch tower fallen into ruin, a testament to over a century of peace ever since the Frontlands and Cockayne had joined their borders and become a single nation. But peace didn't necessarily mean prosperity, or why would there be beggars? At least Snow could offer them better than that, she thought, and approached them with her best friendly smile. "Good day to you."

The beggars, two men in patched rags leaning on wooden staves, watched them with faces that gave little away. One of them held out a wooden bowl, mumbling, "Alms, alms for the poor?"

David glanced at Snow, then reached into his waistband and extracted a few coins to drop in the bowl. "Here you go. Look, I know what it is to be poor; I was poor, once. But we can help you."

"Oh yeah?" said the other beggar. "How's that, then?"

"Snow here is the rightful queen of the White Kingdom," explained David.

Snow nodded. "My stepmother has usurped the throne, and rules the land through terror and magic. If you're willing to help us win back our kingdom, we can promise you'll have a place there. You won't have to beg anymore."

The beggar's mouth twitched in a sly grin. "Ah, well, we have a place here, m'lady. This is our home."

Snow and David exchanged glances. David said in a low voice, "Is it the Dark One? We can help..."

The first beggar, the one with the bowl, chuckled. "Now, seems to me that mostly you folks come out here wanting him to help _you_..."

Snow made a face. "He turned us down."

"Oh, aye? So now you're coming to us, instead?" The beggar smirked. "Coming down in the world, your lordships. You must be hard up, to be begging the beggars."

"We're not _begging_ ," insisted David. "We're asking for all good people to stand together against the evil in the world."

Snow winced at hearing her stepmother called 'evil' out loud, but she didn't contradict him. "Regina murdered my father to take the throne of the White Kingdom. The longer she rules, the more cruel she's become. We need to stop her."

"The world be a cruel place, sure enough," said the beggar. "But we does our bit here, and that's our life."

The other beggar coughed, "Ah, it's no use, they're just like the others. Desperate enough to ask the Dark One, not desperate enough to pay the price he asked. Happens. If the day comes you're past that, then, well, there's always a deal to be made."

"Not with you two, clearly," said Snow sadly. "Come on, Charming, maybe some of the villagers will listen. We can try the tavern."

The tavern was, if anything, worse. The locals gave them looks of weary amusement as Snow tried to inspire them to rise up against evil, whether here or in the White Kingdom. Snow and David finally gave up and retired to an inn room, deciding to rest for a night before making the trek back to their homeland.

"I don't understand." Snow was bewildered by their failure to recruit even a single villager to their cause. "You'd think they'd be eager to free themselves from the Dark One's dominion."

"It's what they're used to," said David. He seemed less surprised by their reception. "They don't seem too unhappy. To ask them to risk everything to run off to a foreign kingdom under the flag of a foreign queen..." He shrugged. "It's just too much of a risk."

"But we're trying to build something better," argued Snow.

David reached out to take her hand. "I know. And I trust you, but these people don't. How could they?"

Snow sighed. "You're right. It takes time."

"Maybe time better spent in our own country," said David. "We'll go back and try again."

"Spoken like a true hero." Snow smiled fondly.

"We can do it, Snow. They want you as their queen, not Regina. They're just afraid. We have to show them we can fight back, and they'll join us."

"I hope so."


	12. Chapter 12

"I miss Avonlea. I miss my family." Belle voiced the thoughts she had suppressed for almost five years, but today it welled up and overwhelmed her. At first she had not _wanted_ to think about home, and then it had become habit. "I want to see them, before... before..."

_Before what?_ asked Otulissa.

"Before it's time. You know. The Dark One. Marriage." Belle choked out the words. She imagined him coming to fetch her on her twenty-first birthday and winced at the thought. It would be humiliating, as if she was one of the packages the guild was hired to deliver. She wanted to have a chance to say a proper good-bye to her friends and family before she disappeared from their lives.

Then again, she had already disappeared. She had meant to send messages back, but kept putting it off. Time had flown by as "soon" turned to "next month" turned to years. Now with the deadline in sight, it was almost too late. The fate that had always waited for her in the abstract suddenly seemed so much more real.

"If you are wishing to return to Avonlea, then that you can do," said Lumiere. "We can be there as soon as today or if you are taking the long road, then some weeks..."

"I know. It's just..." It would be terribly awkward. Could she just show up unannounced at her mother's door as if she had just popped out for an afternoon's walk? What would she say? And her friends. What must they think, after she had just abandoned them all? It was as if she had run away into a dream, and now faced the jarring discontinuity of waking up. "I'm a little bit afraid."

_Why? They'll be happy to see you, won't they?_ said Eskereye.

"Yes, but it's been so long."

_That doesn't matter._ Eskereye looked at her sister. _We were together, then we were apart, then here we are again. So what?_

"So what?" echoed Belle. "So it's just... strange."

_Do you want to go back?_ asked Otulissa.

"Yes, of course, that's what I just said, isn't it?" Belle was annoyed with herself. She should have been better about writing home. But she hadn't, and couldn't fix that now. She whispered, "Do the brave thing, that's what my mother always said."

Belle decided it wouldn't be quite as awkward if she rode in on the road as anyone without magic might do, so Lumiere found them a shortcut through the Infinite Forest to Avonlea, emerging from the trees discreetly to find the road to the capital, and from there to the royal keep. This way, there would be some advance warning from the guards and servants stationed at the castle. She let the stable hand lead Philippe away. The boy was too well-trained to ask any impertinent questions, but she didn't doubt the gossip would spread like wildfire the instant she was out of sight. She felt smaller and more exposed without the horse to shield her, but forced herself to continue past the gates.

"Belle!" Her sister Sylvie was the fastest on her feet, the first of her family to greet her. "It's really you? You're back!"

Belle cleared her throat and smiled weakly, bracing herself as Sylvie ran up for an enthusiastic hug. "Apparently so. You look... bigger. I almost didn't recognize you with your hair like that..."

Sylvie stepped back, rolling her eyes at the obvious. "You're one to talk? What is that you're wearing?"

Belle touched her messenger's hat self-consciously. "I joined the guild in the Maritime Kingdom."

"Guild?"

"The scribes and messengers." She showed her sister the official badge. "I could hardly go around telling everyone I was a runaway princess. It was bad enough when..." Belle stopped herself just in time. "Never mind. How is everyone? How is... how is Father?"

Sylvie deflated at the mention of their father. "He's... much the same. You heard?"

"Lumiere told me." Belle looked at the Timer, who was hanging back in human form along with the two griffons, giving her the illusion of privacy in the middle of the courtyard where Sylvie had caught up to them. "And Mother? And my friends?"

"Mother is well enough. Come on, she's in her chambers. They're both there." Sylvie tugged at Belle's elbow. "She doesn't like to say, but I know she really missed you, you monster. Where were you that you couldn't write us a letter? Not even one?"

"I'm sorry." Belle flushed guiltily. "I know I should have."

"What if something had happened to you?"

"Well, it's not as if I was alone. Lumiere and the griffons were with me. No one would dare go against them." _No one except the Evil Queen_ , Belle didn't say. She didn't want to worry her family. Well, not any more than she already had.

"Hmmph. Too bad your friends didn't have the benefit of such protectors!" Sylvie's tone turned accusing.

"What? What do you mean? Are they... are they all right?" Belle managed to ask the question, afraid of the answer hinted at in Sylvie's expression.

"Yes, no thanks to the Dark One." Sylvie glanced around, lowering her voice. "The clerics accused them — those two town rats of yours, Jacques? and the other — of so many horrible crimes. But after what happened to the archbishop, people believed it. I think... I think Mother saved them somehow."

"You said they're all right..." Belle felt another wave of guilt. She should have been there to help them. Whatever happened had nothing to do with them! How could anyone blame them?

"They had to leave Avonlea. They were excommunicated and condemned as warlocks. Mother told me later that she sent them to the Dark One's land."

"What about Lizzy? Is she safe?"

"She and her mother went when the boys did. It was only a matter of time before the Church started accusing them, too. They had more sense than to stick around and wait for the notice of excommunication." Sylvie squeezed her arm in reassurance. "Lizzy sent us a message a few months after that, saying they settled in a town in Cockayne."

Belle let out a relieved breath. "Oh. That's good." Cockayne was said to be a strange place, but people always associated dark magic and necromancy and monsters with the Dark One, so Belle didn't put too much stock in rumors. One thing was true, though, and that was that Rumplestiltskin always had a price for everything, and that must include living in his domain. "I hope... I hope the Dark One didn't make things too difficult for them."

Sylvie shrugged. "Didn't seem like it."

Belle didn't have time to interrogate her further — they had arrived at their mother's quarters. A maid servant intercepted them at the door, formally announcing their arrival to her ladyship. Lumiere and the griffons stayed in the antechamber with the maid, allowing Belle some privacy with her family.

A tear-soaked re-union ensued. After the laughter and tears had run dry, Colette wanted to hear everything about the years she had missed in her daughter's life. Belle didn't answer at first, her eyes going to her father. Maurice sat in his armchair, his face retaining the same vacant expression he had worn throughout Belle's entire visit. She tried to get him to look at her, but his gaze was unfocused, unseeing.

"He's been like this since the Dark One cursed him," said Colette in a low voice.

Belle swallowed, nodding. She had known, but it wasn't the same as coming face to face with that awful blankness. Her father hadn't worried about her, hadn't missed her, hadn't even known she was gone, or that she had now returned. Now that she saw him, she knew that she couldn't leave him again, not like this. She touched his hand. "Father... it's me."

She closed her eyes and sent a tendril of magic towards him. Whatever curse the Dark One had laid upon Maurice, it was beyond anything Belle had learned. She would have to ask Lumiere about it later. For now, she turned back to Colette and answered her questions as best she could.

"I had a few adventures, I suppose." Belle smiled as convincingly as she could. She didn't think she could handle her mother getting upset at how close Belle had come to dying, or that she had betrayed the gods by releasing the bound Titan. For that matter, she didn't want to betray _Prometheus_ by spreading news of his freedom. "Met some interesting people. I, um, I learned some magic."

"Magic!" Sylvie laughed. "That'll show that Marceline."

"Marceline?" Belle was in no great hurry to see her cousin again, but she couldn't help but be curious.

Colette sighed, giving Sylvie a reproving look. "She hasn't had an easy time of it, either, despite appearances. Who can blame her for dabbling in sorcery?"

"But only the lightest, the most respectable and god-fearing magic, as befits a lady of such noble birth," said Sylvie with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "No wild thaumaturgy or dark arts, oh no!"

"Oh." Belle hadn't stopped to think about whether the brand of magic the Titan had poured into her was _respectable_. It certainly wasn't approved by the gods. She forced a laugh. "I don't dabble in the dark arts, either." According to Lumiere, it was light magic that flowed through her.

Sylvie looked at her suspiciously. "But you're betrothed to the _Dark One._ "

Belle shrugged. "Lumiere says he won't mind."

"Oh, Belle." Colette sounded worried now.

"No, no, it's fine." Belle pushed away memories of blood and pain and imprisonment and concentrated on the wonders she had encountered in her travels. "I learned it in Yrkthera. They have one of the oldest libraries in the Enchanted Forest, and a temple to the gods bigger than anything in Avonlea."

"Oh, yes, I've read of it," said Colette. "Yrkthera... their princess married a northerner, didn't she? I heard he saved her from a sleeping curse."

"It's true. I was there!" And then she had to tell them all about the wedding, while no one mentioned the wedding that loomed over their own family.

"Marceline got married, too," noted Sylvie. "To Lord Girard's son. The one people used to call 'LeFou'. Not so much anymore, though. Not after... Gaston."

An uncomfortable silence descended for a few moments, before Colette changed the subject. "The fire festival is in two days..."

Sylvie nodded. "You should go, Belle. It'll be good luck before, well, you know."

Belle shook her head, uncomfortable with the idea of making a public appearance.

"Live a little," said Sylvie. "No use dwelling on the inevitable."

"I suppose so." Belle eyed her sister suspiciously. "Why? Have you found someone to singe your feet with?" It was the tradition for young couples and newly-weds to leap over the festival fire as a blessing on their love. Not that the priests would allow the Dark One's bride to taint their ritual, but they couldn't completely bar a royal daughter from attendance, not without risking mortal insult to the king.

Sylvie grinned slyly. "Maybe..."

The whole family went to the festival. The king and queen presided over the official blessing conducted by the Church, a show of harmony belied by the dark look the acting archbishop, Remy, sent Belle's way as their paths crossed before the ceremony.

"Did the Church talk to you about lifting the curse on the archbishop?" Belle whispered the question to Lumiere once the crowd was distracted by the dancing and drinking. She had already asked him if he could help Maurice, but Lumiere told her to ask the Dark One, as the curse was Rumplestiltskin's invention, not one of the classic ones like being turned to stone, dancing to death, or being trapped in eternal sleep.

"The Church wants nothing of my help," answered Lumiere. He wore his natural form, but half-faded into the shadows behind Belle, where only the most attentive would see him.

Most people didn't spare much notice for them. The rest of the royal family had acknowledged her (presumably temporary) return without much fanfare, as it didn't make any difference to them when Belle left, whether it was five years ago or tomorrow, since she had only ever been on loan to Avonlea.

"Oh, look at _you_ , traipsing back to Avonlea as bold as bold can be," was Marceline's comment on seeing her at the festival.

At her cousin's tone, any vague notion of asking her about her magic (and whether she had come across any interesting spellbooks in Lord Girard's library) evaporated from Belle's tongue. She fell back into their childhood dynamic, rolling her eyes and murmuring, "Don't you have a fire to jump into... over?"

Marceline smiled with a sweetness that didn't quite conceal her irritation. She hooked an arm around her husband's elbow. "Come along, Michel. Step lively!"

Michel nodded gravely at Belle, then let his wife tug him towards the flames.

"Do you think they're happy together?" Belle whispered to Lumiere as she watched them join the line for the sacred fire.

"Ah, those two, it is clearly not a match of love," said Lumiere. "But for the making of heirs, perhaps it is being enough."

Belle winced. That didn't sound much like happiness. Was it enough? Would they take lovers outside their marriage? Marceline and Michel had known each other since childhood, on friendly enough terms for a degree of flexibility in their marriage. It was different for Belle. She hardly dared to imagine the Dark One's punishment for infidelity. She took what happened to her father as a warning.

Belle sighed, the festivities suddenly feeling oppressive. Too tired to try to force herself into the conversations around her, she pasted a polite smile on her face and watched the crowd without much enthusiasm. The garland of flowers she wore on her head for luck slowly wilted in the heat.

Later, after everyone had gone home, Belle remembered one familiar face that hadn't shown. "I didn't see Miss Elinore at the festival today. Come to think of it, I haven't seen her at all since I came back."

"Pff. That's the idea," Sylvie told her. "Her days as a governess were numbered, after that business with Gaston. Mother dismissed her right off, and later someone — most likely our royal grandmama — encouraged her in rather strong terms to take the veil."

"She became a nun?" That wasn't what Belle had expected. Although Elinore had hewed close to the orthodoxy, she struck Belle as far too worldly to want to retire from the world. "Not really the type, is she?"

Sylvie scowled. "She deserved it, the old hypocrite."

"Well, maybe she'll find peace and enlightenment," said Belle. "Stranger things have happened." As she knew from personal experience, not that she wanted to explain that to her sister.

On the other hand, a few familiar faces had appeared in unexpected places. It took Belle a few moments to recognize one of the (former?) students from Lizzy's school, encountered in a corridor in the royal keep. "Wait... aren't you Henriette?"

It was indeed Henriette. As she explained to Belle, the school had found a quiet sponsor in Lady Colette. By framing the school as a charitable work, she had made it difficult for the Church to openly oppose it, especially as Lady Colette was still seen among the people as a pious woman. As more students graduated from the school, she arranged employment for many of them in Avonlea's civil service. The school acquired a veneer of respectability with Miss Hora as the Headmistress. Belle didn't ask if she was still passing for human. According to Henriette, Hora was still a 'grumpy old haddock' who kept everyone strictly in line.

A few days after the festival, Belle gathered up her courage and told her mother, "I need to take Father to Schlaraffenland..." At Colette's shocked expression, Belle hurried on with, "It's the only way. I don't know how to lift the curse, and Lumiere says he can't, either, so we have to ask the Dark One."

"But..." began Colette feebly. "The Dark One? His deals have already cost us too much..."

"I know, but we can't leave Father like this. We have to help him." Whatever Maurice had done, he didn't deserve to be trapped in this living death forever. And it was hard on Colette, who had to see him like this every day, who had to care for him when he couldn't even recognize her. Belle took her mother's hands in hers. "I'm so sorry. I should have come back sooner."

Colette managed a small smile and squeezed back. "It's all right, my dear. It was we who failed you."

Belle shook her head. "I know you did everything you could for me. Even Father... I just wish he let me make my own choices in my life."

Colette sighed. "And now you are choosing to take him to the Dark One? You know that isn't what he would want. Who knows what price that demon would demand in return for lifting his curse?"

"I wish you wouldn't call him that." Belle drew back, letting go of her mother's hands and not quite meeting her eyes. "He's to be my husband, you know."

"How could I forget!" Colette moved to her husband's side, reaching out to make an unnecessary adjustment to his collar. "We made that deal to save all Avonlea, but your father is only one man. Please, Belle, don't let yourself fall deeper in debt..."

"But I have to try," Belle pleaded. "I can't abandon Father without even asking. Besides, if Rumplestiltskin is my husband, then won't he be more willing to listen to his wife's request?"

"Perhaps." Colette looked at Maurice, as if contemplating the times her husband listened or not to _his_ wife's requests. Belle waited for her decision, which came after a long silence. "Very well. We'll go together, as a family. If we leave within the week, we should arrive at the Dark Castle just before your birthday."

Belle had been born on the summer solstice, which was nearly two months after the fire festival. With a fast ship, good horses, and well-maintained trade roads, they had time enough for the journey from Avonlea to the Dark Castle without resorting to magic.

Belle knelt at her father's feet and kissed his right hand in a gesture of filial piety. "I promise I'll do my best to save you, Father. I know you hate the Dark One, but we are to be family, so be angry at me if you must, but know that I have to do this."

As she climbed back to her feet, she heard her mother mutter under her breath, "Gods have mercy on us all."

Well. Maybe not the gods. It was Rumplestiltskin's mercy they needed now, and Belle was determined to see for herself if he was capable of it.

* * *

Three days later, they set off from the capital, taking a barge to the northern sea, then embarking on one of the king's warships, a single-masted cog with a rectangular sail. It was big enough to carry Belle, her parents, her sister, Lumiere, and a retinue of servants and guards.

Two of the 'servants' turned out to be ex-clerics who had begged Lady Colette to allow them to tag along. Upon closer questioning, they were not so much _ex_ -clerics — they claimed to serve the gods in their hearts if not in their mouths — as junior disciples rebelling against Remy, the acting archbishop.

"You want to ask the Dark One to lift the curse on Octavius?" Belle wasn't surprised that Remy had forbidden the whole idea. "One, Remy seems in no hurry to relinquish his position, and two, it goes against the Church teachings, I would think."

"We are willing to pay whatever penance is owed," said the ex-cleric named Andre. "It may be a sin to deal with the Dark One, but it would be a greater sin not to try to save the archbishop."

"And what did Remy have to say about that?" wondered Belle.

"That he would rather cut his own tongue out than ask the Dark One for anything," said Andre glumly. "He threatened to cut /our/ tongues out if we continued 'pestering' him about the matter."

"Yes, but do the scriptures not say 'let the devil's work by the devil's hands be undone'?" argued Hugh, the other rebellious cleric.

"I thought that was more meant as an ironic comment on fate twisting villains against themselves," said Belle. "A traitor being executed by the usurper he put in place, or a murderer falling prey to a bandit, that kind of thing."

"That is a laywoman's interpretation," said Hugh haughtily. "The truth is more subtle."

"You ran away. That's not very subtle."

"Father Remy is not the archbishop," said Andre. "It is to his grace that we owe our obedience. When he wakes from the curse, his judgement will be all that matters."

"And you think he'll be grateful," Belle surmised.

"He will know who has been loyal," said Hugh. "Loyalty is a virtue praised by the gods, rewarded in heaven even when punished on earth."

A comforting thought. Belle hoped for his sake it was true.

* * *

The ship became lonelier when the two griffons flew off by themselves to the Dark Castle.

_We're not seagulls,_ was Eskereye's explanation. _Floating trees make terrible perches._

_She means she gets seasick,_ said Otulissa. _We'll tell Rumplestiltskin you're on your way, so he can mount a proper welcome for you._

"Ah, well, I don't know..." stammered Belle. She didn't want any kind of grand formal reception and had been hoping to slip in quietly.

_SHE means so that the Dark One doesn't throw things at your head because you've caught him on an off day,_ Eskereye interpreted in turn. _Fireballs, for instance._

"Does he really do that?"

"He admittedly can be sometimes silly, a child," said Lumiere. "Just as much as these two silly children." He waved a claw at the griffons. "But it is true that he is not at his best when surprised, and I think you already will surprise him enough just being you yourself."

"Oh." Belle wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she let it go, and simply bade the griffons a good flight. "We'll see you later, then!"

As the ship set out to deeper waters, Belle thought that she was glad that they would bypass the Maritime Kingdom. It would have been dreadfully awkward to be recognized as "Lacey" the scribe-messenger.

Every day, the two ex-clerics prayed for Belle and her family. One morning, they cornered Belle on the aft deck and tried to get her to join in. Their prayers went beyond mere words to self-flagellation with the sacred scourges of their great earth mother. Andre had an extra whip, which he offered to Belle.

"No, thank you," Belle told them, trying not to visibly flinch. She had known of the practice, but due to her rank and general estrangement from the Church of Avonlea, she had never had occasion to see it up close. "I, uh, I appreciate the thought, but I don't think it would do any good."

"Sincere prayers to the gods are never spoken in vain," said Hugh. "Your lady mother knows this. And there is no better proof of sincerity than blood and tears." Bared to the waist, he whipped the three leather thongs onto his own back again and again, and Belle could see the scars of his devotion criss-crossing his skin. He clenched his teeth in a fanatical grin even as his eyes glistened with pain.

She shuddered, thankful that Lady Colette had never been as extreme in her faith as these clerics. Her mother hadn't attended public services since Belle was a small child, instead making her prayers and sacrifices in private at the shrine in the royal keep. On shipboard, Colette never joined the ex-clerics either, telling them that her supplications were between herself and the gods with no need for priestly intercession — a stance tolerated in the noble class, though edging on heresy for the commoners. "My mother says our good will is proof enough for the gods."

"Lady Colette has the wisdom of the saints," said Andre through tight jaws, "but it may not be enough. Schlaraffenland is a demon-infested hell — everyone knows that." He used a lighter hand than his compatriot, and had relatively more breath to speak. "The Dark One practices necromancy, a foul art forbidden by the gods since the dawn of time. The very air is tainted. We fear you will be corrupted by its malign influence."

"Well, I'm to marry him, necromancy or not." Perhaps the Dark One's lands really were full of demons, but if they were 'demons' like Lumiere or Cogsworth, Belle didn't think it was anything to worry about.

"If you are pure of heart, the gods themselves will strike him down if he dares touch you," Hugh said, panting with exertion. "Is it not written that 'the fire of the faithful is equal to a thousand spells'?"

"Like the martyrs who set themselves on fire?" Belle shuddered. All magic came with a price, and such a high price could buy powerful magic indeed, as recorded in ancient, gruesome tales. "I'd really rather not..."

"Then we may pray for a miracle," said Andre ominously. He flicked the scourge, letting the knotted ends bite into his flesh. "We will endure this cleansing for the sake of all Avonlea. May our pain be heard and redeemed. May the gods fill you with their flames. May the Dark One be struck down..."

"He did save Avonlea," said Belle softly, disturbed at the sight but having nowhere to hide from it. Their suffering shone from them, mystical power tangling with the pattern of their scourges. The air quivered with something dark and dangerous. "You could be more grateful, instead of wishing him dead."

"His death will free the archbishop," grated Hugh, his arm rising again and again to whip himself into a near-ecstasy of agony. "His death will free your father... it could even free you. If you were a true daughter of Avonlea, you would scourge yourself to bare bone for the gods to see. Your blood would call to them like a beacon..."

"Yes, but if I can persuade the Dark One to lift his curse, the gods don't need to be involved at all." Shaken by the intensity of the flagellants' self-punishment, Belle said the first thing that came to mind. She was finding it hard to think, being caught up in a morbid fascination as she watched.

Their faces darkened at her blasphemy.

Then the sudden appearance of Lumiere at the bottom of the aft deck broke her out of her trance.

"Lumiere!" Belle waved at the Timer in relief. She excused herself hastily and slipped around the clerics. "Don't let me keep you from your devotions..."

Andre grunted in disapproval. "You may abandon us as you abandon your people, but we will not fail in our duty."

Belle averted her eyes and fled. Behind her, she could hear the clerics chanting hymns and prayers.

"Are you all right?" Lumiere followed her to the other side of the ship.

Belle stared out at the sky and the water. "Do you... do you think it works? Scourging yourself like that? Do the gods answer if you hurt yourself enough?"

Lumiere joined her at the railing. "Ah, the gods. The gods are few and the world is large. They have not the time to help everyone as they might wish, so people say they listen to the one who cries the loudest. Who most is in pain..."

"Is it true?"

Lumiere shrugged. "The clerics believe it. But when the gods do not answer, they see the fault to lie in mortal kind, that they do not deserve succor. A fault they wish to atone for with more punishment in hopes that the gods will relent and forgive."

"In the holy books, it was more... I thought it was a metaphor." Belle closed her eyes, trying to banish the image of burning-eyed clerics lashing themselves until they bled. "Or a practice from a more primitive time. Something they only did symbolically now. But they... this... I wish my mother hadn't agreed to bring them..."

"Lady Colette still hopes for her gods to intervene in your favor, perhaps," said Lumiere. "To free you from your fate."

Belle shook her head. "They wouldn't, not after what I did." Not when the stolen fire burned in her soul. She kept it tamped down in the presence of the clerics, afraid that their prayers really could be heard by their gods.

"You must be careful. If you fall into the hands of the Church, and they learn of the one you freed from the rock, it may be your pain that they feed to the gods."

"They think they can use me to kill the Dark One if they pray hard enough," said Belle. "It's a kind of magic, isn't it? I could feel it on them..."

"They are fools," said Lumiere. "It is human magic that they mistake for the divine, and it is not strong enough to do direct injury to the Dark One."

Belle bit her lip. "I don't want to hurt him. They can't put the spell on me without me knowing, can they?"

"Not if you are vigilant."

For the rest of the voyage, Belle avoided the clerics as best she could. Sylvie did the same, mingling with the crew and learning the ropes, as it were. She had always been better at fitting in with any group than Belle, and sometimes the latter envied her sister for it. But not even the easy-going Sylvie enjoyed the flagellants' company.

"It makes my spine curl," Sylvie confided to Belle. "The way they do that to themselves. And after awhile, all that chanting... don't you think it's creepy? Not like a proper prayer at all."

Belle nodded. She asked her mother later about them, hoping Colette hadn't commissioned their prayers for Belle's sake.

"No, dear," Colette assured her. "The one thing Remy and I see eye to eye on is that the flagellants follow a dark path. They claim to buy miracles through the mortification of their own flesh, a trade the archbishop was too willing to condone, but surely it cannot be the gods' wish that we offer them our pain."

"Then why did you let them travel with us?"

Colette sighed. "Despite everything, their faith is not false, and if they can sway the Dark One with their prayers, if they can save your father, how can I in good conscience deny them? After all, it may be I who am mistaken in my beliefs."

Belle was startled to hear the uncertainty in her mother's voice. Colette had always seemed so confident in knowing right from wrong, dark from light. When had this doubt taken root in her?

_If they can save your father..._

Was that why? Colette hadn't been able to save Maurice, and the years of helplessness had worn her down.

"I'm sorry," Belle whispered. She hugged her mother. "We'll talk to the Dark One. He'll see that you deserve better..."

"He'll see our desperation, I fear," Colette admitted. "And offer us another deal."

"Maybe it won't be so bad." Belle smiled weakly. "Lumiere's told me of plenty of deals where the Dark One didn't ask for anything too onerous. It's not all brides and firstborns."

Colette straightened out of the hug and met Belle's gaze. "Whatever the price, I will pay it, not you. I won't let you sacrifice yourself for your father, when he..." She shook her head, not finishing the sentence.

Belle bowed her head, not wanting to argue with her mother.

Later, Lumiere guided her through meditative techniques that made it easier to sense the magical influences around her. Soon enough, they would arrive in Cockayne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cockaigne and Schlaraffenland are mythical countries in medieval folklore, lands of wish fulfillment and the overturning of normal society and its restrictions. It got a bad rep as a land of worthless lazy people, but I figure in this AU that's the other kingdoms' propaganda, not wanting their serfs to run away to a supposed earthly paradise, lol. I originally came across "Schlaraffenland" via a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=maVR0PBUaVg) based on a 16th century poem by Hans Sachs.
> 
> And this is OUAT, so there's no such thing as historical (or geographical, economic, ecological, etc.) accuracy, and if there's something kinky going on with the scourging clerics... it's not that kind of fanfiction, so don't even go there...


	13. Chapter 13

North Haven looked like any number of other trade ports along the coast. It was only as they drew closer that Belle saw a faint glimmer of dark magic that hung over the town like a low fog. A long day of bright summer sun had burned off any actual fog, and the weather held clear and warm.

"It binds the citizens of Schlaraffenland together," Lumiere explained when she asked. "It is the power of law and rule paid for in blood and souls."

Overhearing this, Colette and the clerics looked askance at the Timer.

"Foul necromancy," declared Hugh.

Lumiere shrugged. "Necromancy, perhaps, but 'foul' is a matter of opinion."

"Trafficking in souls is condemned by all civilized folk," spat Andre.

"And yet the gods do a brisk trade in such, do they not?" Lumiere retorted. "And also in blood, if your rite of the scourge is to be believed."

"The ways of demons are perversions of the true way," said Hugh.

Belle looked at Lumiere anxiously. "My friends..." Had they sold their souls to the Dark One?

"Do not look so worried, little Belle," said Lumiere. "Rumplestiltskin is not such a demon as to bring hell upon his citizens."

Colette said to Belle in a low voice, "Your Lizzy wrote to me, and that was only last year, saying that all was well. They've made peace with whatever demons dwell in this land."

Belle nodded, hoping it was true. Soon enough, she, too, would have to make peace with her fate.

As they drew into the port, a woman — the North Haven harbormaster, according to the ship's captain — directed them to their berth. Careful maneuvering pulled them alongside a wooden pier, where the crew busied themselves mooring the ship with thick coils of rope, then set down the gangplank for the passengers to disembark.

By then, they had accrued an audience waiting for them at the water's edge. Not exactly a royal welcome, as they hadn't come as an official delegation or diplomatic mission, but they were still met with a mild show of force, along with a crowd of curious bystanders.

The most striking figure was that of the apparent leader, a man stooped with age whose face was fully covered by a black leather mask with red markings. He wore a black robe trimmed in red and gold, and every visible inch of bare skin was covered with more markings that oozed and squirmed, drawing the eye like fresh spilled blood. As they came closer, Belle saw that they formed — words? — in a script like none she had seen before, yet felt strangely familiar.

She was so caught up in trying to decipher — was it some kind of spell or enchantment? — that she nearly missed the introductions.

The man in the mask was the Archon of North Haven. "...welcomes the promised bride of the Dark One and her family to Schlaraffenland. As our honored guests, you are invited to dine this evening at the Archon's mansion..."

The four armed warriors flanking him were from his household guard, and the fifth one was an officer of the city watch. There were also representatives from the merchant guild, the Archon's clerk, and a few other interested parties.

Lady Colette, as the highest-ranking person of sound mind present on the Avonlean side, took charge and thanked the Archon. The two ex-clerics were not so gracious, glaring at the locals as if suspecting them of every evil, but a look from Colette kept them silent for now. How well they would take to the Archon's hospitality, Belle didn't know, but they could hardly refuse without provocation when he offered to host the Avonleans in the guest quarters at the Archon's mansion.

"No ball, too bad," whispered Sylvie as the arrangements were negotiated. "Just some musty old traditional play... probably with a hidden message, like 'don't mess with the Dark One' or something."

Belle stifled a giggle. "Maybe." She didn't mind. She liked seeing the different customs in different lands. It was one of the things she had enjoyed about travel.

Formalities concluded, the Archon and his people escorted the Avonleans inland. The land rose steeply away from the water, a row of houses and walls forming an architectural cliff around the harbor, with breaks between the houses to allow access to the heart of the town. The streets cut back and forth to gentle the incline enough to permit passage for horses and carts, but the Archon led them to a stone stairway that climbed straight up away from the wharf. As narrow as it was, Belle lingered at the rear of her group, waiting for the others to fit two by two onto the stairs. Lumiere had faded into the shadows and opted to fly directly to the top of the stairs rather than try to squeeze in among the humans. Her father lumbered up slowly, requiring the assistance of two of the servants to shift him. Sylvie followed after, then two more servants, leaving Belle to bring up the rear. One of the city watch had stationed himself at the base of the stairs, blocking access to the stairwell to curious civilians and scattering the crowd of onlookers to alternative paths.

Or, not quite the entire crowd, as Belle noticed when she turned to look back towards the Avonlean ship.

A trio of raggedly dressed youths had been lounging on a bollard just down the wharf to watch the show. The one who had been perched on top hopped off, and now all three of them were approaching the Avonlean delegation. Two of them had plain wooden staves balanced across their shoulders.

Belle tensed, giving a sidelong glance to the city watchman, but he kept a stolid silence, apparently unalarmed by the three ragamuffins — vagabonds — beggars?

Her last guess was confirmed when the one in the lead, who held out a wooden bowl rather than a staff, shuffled up to her.

"Alms for the poor?"

"Um." Seeing no sign from the watchman, Belle reached into the coin pouch at her waist. She smiled a little nervously and met the beggar's eyes. There was something knowing in his gaze, an air of waiting and suppressed glee. Waiting...? Then her jaw dropped as she realized who she was looking at. "Jean?"

Jean — it really was her old friend — grinned. "Belle!" He clapped her back as she enveloped him in a hug. She found his torso oddly bulky and stiff, as if he was wearing multiple layers of clothes underneath the loose-fitting patched coat, but if he was living on the streets, perhaps he needed the extra insulation. "Long time, huh?"

Belle let go in order to get a proper look at the other two. One was a woman, corpse-pale and with a stench to match, while the other was—

"Jacques?" To Belle's relief, her two friends did look healthier than their comrade, but their plight appalled her. "You're... you're beggars? They said you were all right!"

"No, no, it's fine." Jacques was quick to reassure her. "Jean was just having a laugh."

"But aye, we're beggars, right enough," said Jean.

"I'm sorry." She knew how poor they had been as orphans, that there had been times as children when they had to beg for any scrap to keep themselves alive. Had they been reduced to that kind of poverty again?

"Don't be!" Jacques told her.

But when he shook his head, Belle glimpsed the scar he hid under his hair. She leaned forward to flick his bangs aside, revealing the "B" that had been branded into his forehead. _"B" for Blasphemy._ A glance at Jean revealed the same mark on him. Belle's heart sank. "Oh."

"It's nothing," insisted Jacques. "Doesn't hurt, and plenty folks got it worse." He didn't look at their companion, but Belle couldn't help it. She looked deathly ill, her hair thin and prematurely gray, while her skin hung loose and patchy on her bones.

Jean caught the direction of her gaze. "What? Ragwort? Nah, you don't need to feel sorry for her." He reached out for Ragwort's hand and smiled.

"I'm a ghoul," explained Ragwort, her voice a harsh croak, but the expression on her face was friendly enough. "We naturally dwell on the doorstep of death and wear its scent as our perfume."

"If flowers can do it, why not people?" offered Jacques philosophically.

"Yes, but..." Belle stared. "A... ghoul?" Surely she had misunderstood. In Avonlea, ghouls were creatures of legends, bedtime story monsters to frighten children with.

"A corpse-eater, a necrophage, a grave robber," Ragwort elucidated with a grin.

"Not so much that last one, not here," interjected Jacques. "Because of the deal."

"Deal? With the Dark One?" Belle wondered what else Lumiere had never taught them about Schlaraffenland. He had mentioned multiple races living in peace, but not gone into detail.

"With all of us," said Jean. "When we swear to Schlaraffenland, we promise our mortal remains to the ghouls, and the ghouls, well, they use their magic to help everyone here."

_Necromancy._ Belle remembered the clerics' accusation. So there was something to it. "I see. I think. But... but you're beggars?" Was there prejudice against Ragwort's people, that they refused to hire them? And had Jacques and Jean joined her on the streets in solidarity with their friend? "And what... where's Lizzy? Is she all right?"

"She's fine," said Jacques. "Something came up and she had to work late, but she'll be at the Archon's mansion later."

Belle frowned in confusion. "She found work? Can't she help you...?"

"It's not what you think, Belle." Jacques looked past her briefly. "Come on, we should get a move on. I'll tell you as we walk."

Belle turned to see that the procession had almost cleared the stairs and she would have to hurry to catch up. "Right."

As they climbed, Jacques told her how they had been exiled from Avonlea. "Your lady mother sent us with a full purse, but we got hit by bandits halfway across the Maritime Kingdom."

"Was anyone hurt?" asked Belle.

"Just roughed up a bit to show they meant business." Jacques shook his head. "Ten to four, and they had spears and bows. We were just lucky they didn't make a go at Lizzy or her ma, but I guess they figured if it came to a real fight of it, we'd take a few down with us."

"Hell yeah, we would've fought if they'd tried _that_."

Jacques continued, "So we got to Cockayne, but we were plain broke. They set us to hauling night soil at first..."

"...!" Belle wrinkled her nose as she imagined what that entailed.

"Eh, you get used to the smell pretty quick," said Jean.

"Shitty job, but someone's got to do it." Jacques smirked. "Besides, we'd done it before."

"In Avonlea?" Belle remembered them at the docks, unloading the grain barges. What had they done before that?

"Yeah, but they pay better here," said Jean. "And people are nice about it."

"And now you're beggars? What happened?"

Jacques drew himself up proudly, pausing for a moment to strike a pose. "We're beggar _knights_ , I'll have you know."

"Knights?" Belle boggled.

"Aye, we're sworn brothers and sisters of the clan and all," explained Jean. He showed her the wooden plaque that hung from his belt. "We travel the roads of Schlaraffenland making it a better place, so's the babies can sleep safe at night."

Belle's eyes widened. "You're saying you became heroes?"

Jacques snorted. "Not hardly. We don't go rescuing maidens from dragons or overthrowing evil queens or any of that stuff heroes go for. We just try to make sure everyone in this land is done right by."

Jean sighed and added, "So much for making our fortunes in a new land. We had to take vows of poverty."

"A beggar doesn't need money," Jacques said stoutly. "People give us what we need to live, and we help them how we can." Then as Jean walked on ahead to say something to Ragwort, Jacques hung back and whispered in Belle's ear, "Jean only joined 'cause he's sweet on that girl." He nodded subtly at the ghoul.

"Oh." Belle looked at her curiously. She lowered her voice, "And it's mutual?"

Jacques chuckled. "She thinks he's cute, for a child of day. That's what they call us, 'cause normally ghouls live in the catacombs and only come out at night."

"You said they had magic."

"Aye. There's the magic in the catacombs themselves," Jacques explained, "and the way they all link up all over, sort of like the Infinite Forest. Then there's bone magic and flesh craft. I've seen Ragwort do a few things, but their wizards are something else."

Belle tried to remember what Lumiere had said about necromancy in his magic lessons, but he hadn't covered it in any depth, and Belle hadn't been interested in manipulating the dead. "You don't mind?"

Jacques shrugged. "Dead is dead. What do I care what happens to my corpse after my soul's gone from it?"

He had a point, but Belle couldn't help thinking it must be hard on the family. She imagined ghouls devouring her mother's corpse. It was a horrifying image. "It just... it seems disrespectful."

"Yeah, I know, I felt like that at first, but then you meet some ghouls, and they're just _people_ , only they gotta eat what they gotta eat, else they wither up and die." Jacques gave her a sympathetic look. "So then I thought, well, respect goes with the spirit of the person, not with what's just meat after all's said and done."

Belle sighed. She glanced ahead to where the Avonleans were filing through the gates towards an impressively massive building. The evening sun slanted across the roof and walls, accenting the glass windows with a red-gold blaze. "That's the Archon's mansion?"

"Yeah."

"You're coming in, aren't you?" Belle hoped she wouldn't be parted again from her friends so soon.

"'Course. In Schlaraffenland, beggars are always invited to the feast."

"Beggar knights, right," Belle mused. "But what about actual beggars?"

"There's always some. But the clan looks after all of us, sworn members or not, and everyone gets something from the table."

"Even... human meat?" Belle had a moment of anxiety, thinking that there might be a limit to her culinary adventurousness, and what if the Archon's kitchen catered to _all_ the citizens of the land?

Jacques chuckled. "Nah, don't worry, you won't turn cannibal by accident!"

"Oh. Good." Belle smiled weakly. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then walked into the mansion after Jean and Ragwort, with Jacques trailing half a step behind.

* * *

As it turned out, the food was mostly recognizable. The fried crab cakes were a local speciality, as was the seaweed salad. Other dishes were familiar to Belle's palate, things she had eaten before at home or on her travels. Ragwort was served with her own little clay pot full of rotting meat that Belle didn't want to examine too closely.

Somewhat to Belle's amusement, the clerics took nothing but bread and water from the table and mumbled cleansing prayers before they dared eat. They stuck close to each other, presenting a united front against the heathens. Lumiere (in human form) sat between two of the local officials on the other side of the Archon at the high table. Colette presented a calm demeanor, as befit a noble lady, even when Maurice sat unresponsive next to her, being fed by one of the servants.

The other servants and the crew of the ship were seated at a side table, looking uncomfortable at having to dine in such exalted company, but according to Jean, it was the custom in Schlaraffenland.

"The Archon wants to see everyone," Jean said when he caught Belle looking. Belle sat with the beggars at the other side table, across from the servants. Her mother had initially wanted her closer to her family, but Belle had insisted on sitting with her friends. There was another ghoul, older, in richer clothes — Belle guessed him to be a wizard — and others who had been there to greet the Avonleans at the docks.

The space in the center served as a stage where the Archon entertained his guests with a series of performances. It started with quiet instrumental music in the courtly style to accompany the meal, after which the minstrels took a turn with lively songs and dances, followed by a rather silly play with puppets. Belle was startled to recognize a number of the jokes and turns from Lumiere's show. She caught his gaze with an accusing look, and he smiled wryly back at her in acknowledgement.

The Archon was harder to read. He never removed his mask, never laughed or cheered or even seemed to be watching the entertainers. His gaze remained on his guests throughout, as if gauging their reactions.

"Why doesn't he eat or drink?" Belle asked Jacques at one point, under cover of the applause and commotion between acts.

"He's a blood lord. It's our souls that feed him. Look on the bright side, it makes it harder to poison him."

Well, it wasn't unheard of, which was why the nobles in Avonlea employed food tasters. "What's his name? I feel we're at a disadvantage, with him knowing our names while he's an enigma behind a mask."

"He's the Archon of North Haven."

"Yes, but doesn't he have a name?"

"Plenty of them. Haven't you seen the markings on his skin?"

Names! Was that what they were? Belle eyed the Archon again. "I've never seen that kind of magic before."

"It's blood craft," Ragwort told her. "One of the three roads of necromancy practiced by ghouls."

"The other two being... flesh and bone craft?" Belle hazarded.

Ragwort nodded. "There is a fourth, soul craft, but that falls within the Dark One's purview."

"So the marks on his skin, those are written in the language of the dark realm," Belle guessed. At another nod from Ragwort, Belle continued, "Why does he wear a mask?"

"It's a reminder of what he is. That he is the mask, and the mask is all," said Ragwort.

"I don't understand."

"He is a magical construct, a dead man walking and talking through our craft and the Dark One's soul binding," explained Ragwort. "He's not like a born person; he has no private self. His will is the will of those who signed blood oaths within his jurisdiction."

"See, there's blood lords that are the regular sector lords and the like," Jean put in. "And then there's the Archons above that who take a wider view. For us, that's the Grandmaster of the Beggars Clan."

"What about Lizzy? Is she a beggar, too?"

Jacques nodded. "But not like us. Beggars are split up into the rough and the smooth, the rough being the ones what goes out on the road and gets our clothes dirty, while the smooth sit pretty indoors and keep track of everything."

"So Lizzy is, um, 'smooth'?" The word felt funny in her mouth. "Huh."

"After washing and mending clothes all her life, she hated to see them ripped up and dirty on purpose," Jean joked.

Ragwort snorted. "Rubbish. It's because she's cleverer than either of you two clods."

Belle chuckled. "That's true enough."

"Hey!" Jacques and Jean protested together.

After the food that was eaten was digesting and the food that wasn't eaten was cleared away and half the guests were half drunk on Cockayne wine, the Archon summoned Belle for a private audience. Her mother protested, as did the clerics (for different reasons), but Belle overruled her.

"I'll be fine."

"You need not fear for her virtue," said the Archon. Belle wondered if she had imagined the slightly mocking edge to his tone. Her friends claimed he was some kind of amalgamated intelligence. She wondered what that meant for how the town of North Haven saw the Avonleans, or Belle in particular. "I am merely curious to meet the woman promised to the Dark One. She is a stranger to us."

And did they resent that Rumplestiltskin had overlooked his own countrywomen in favor of a foreigner? Belle cleared her throat. "You mean that North Haven is curious..."

"Yes." The eyes behind the mask bored into her. "That goes without saying, in Schlaraffenland. That is what it means to be an archon."

"All right." Belle glanced at her mother. Perhaps it wasn't proper by the standards of Avonlean nobility, but— "I'm curious, too."

Colette sighed. "So be it." She bowed and withdrew with the rest of the Avonleans towards the guest quarters.

Instead of taking her to his office, the Archon led Belle to what he called the 'night garden.' Enclosed inside walls but open to the sky, a gravel path wound about impressively ugly rocks and artfully planted trees. A small stream flowed into a pond stocked with fish with big bulging eyes. The Archon pointed out various features that Belle could barely see under the light of a gibbous moon.

"You can see in the dark?" Belle asked.

"Yes." He didn't elaborate. Was he reminding her that he was not human? Or warning her?

"Well, I can't." At least not without using magic, but she didn't want to say that.

The Archon seemed to sense her unspoken stipulation. "But you could. You have certain gifts. Is that why Rumplestiltskin chose you?"

"I... I don't really know," Belle stammered. "The deal was made before I was born."

"He is a Seer," the Archon noted.

"Yes, I've heard that." Belle looked away from the blank mask that gave nothing away and gazed into the water instead, where the fish milled around, drawn to their presence. "They're awake..."

"The fish of a night garden keep their own hours." The Archon reached into a sleeve, then flicked crumbs of food into the water, where the fish shoved over each other in their haste to snatch their share. "But they share the greedy nature of fish everywhere."

"I see." Belle gave him a sideways glance. What exactly was he saying to her? She had expected a magical construct to be direct and straightforward, yet here he was, as elusive as any courtier.

"Yet I am very fond of them," said the Archon, and Belle thought she heard a smile in his voice. "I hope that you may come to appreciate them as well. And also our fair city of North Haven."

"Yes, so do I." Belle smiled back at him, hoping that meant he (and through him, the citizens of North Haven?) would extend the same good will to her. "You... you are not what I expected."

"Is that so?" The Archon's mask turned to face her. "What did you expect?"

Belle looked away. "They said you were constructed out of bits of the souls of many people. That you were the mask and 'the mask is all', whatever that means." There was a coldness to him, but at the same time, he seemed to be a distinct individual. "I didn't realize that the sum of all the people... is also something different."

"North Haven is a port city. We face outwards to the rest of the world, but are still part of Schlaraffenland," said the Archon. "Thus we are wary of outsiders, but it is wariness mingled with an offer of friendship. Trade is our lifeblood. Strangers arrive in North Haven and become family or allies. Others become enemies."

"And it's your job to distinguish between them? I see." As the bride of the Dark One, Belle had the potential to harm them or help them. Naturally people wanted to know what to expect from her. The Archon reflected that, and his oblique approach and diplomacy sprang from their caution against starting unnecessary conflicts.

"I've spoken to your friends," the Archon said. "It gives me hope that whatever changes you bring us will be born from good intentions."

"I, uh, thank you." And was _that_ a warning? "I'll do my best to make sure the 'good intentions' grow into 'good results'."

The Archon nodded. "Then North Haven is glad to welcome you to the family." He gestured at an archway. "The hour grows late. Your friends await you on the other side of the arch."

* * *

"Belle!" Lizzy was there at last, catching Belle in a crushing embrace.

Belle laughed breathlessly. "Lizzy..."

Lizzy released her to take a step back and look Belle up and down. "Hmm. You're looking well."

"You too," said Belle honestly. Lizzy was a head taller than her now, and looked a little tired, but also excited and brimming with purpose. "So what have you been up to?"

"Setting up our mission for tonight," chortled Jean.

"Mission?" Belle glanced quizzically at the others.

Jacques nodded. "Did you see the other ship in the harbor when you came in? The one flying the Southern Isles flag."

Belle thought back, then nodded.

"It's a privateer," explained Lizzy. "The Southern Isles is engaged in a trade war with Arendelle."

"And a nasty bunch of hordors they are," grumbled Ragwort.

Belle blinked. "A bunch of _what?_ "

"Press gang," said Lizzy.

"Nosing around the place, trying to talk folk into signing on," said Jean. "Only no one was having none of that."

"So tonight they started grabbing people off the street," said Lizzy. "They're likely planning to slip out under cover of darkness. We're to help stop them and recover the captives. Brun and Achille got themselves taken, so we'll have two on the inside."

Belle wasn't officially allowed to involve herself, as she was still technically an Avonlean citizen, but she tagged along with her friends, watching from a safe distance, ready to help in case they needed it.

They didn't. Not when they had the North Haven regiment backing them up.

It was overkill, thought Belle afterwards. Regiments of the Schlaraffenland army were stationed all along the borders and coasts, fending off pirates, cattle raiders, bandits, and the occasional crusade to 'liberate' the land from the Dark One.

"Does that happen a lot?" Belle asked her friends.

"Not for a long time." Lizzy shrugged. "But it would happen more often if we looked weak."

"Right," sighed Belle.

The prisoners were freed, and the crew taken to the Archon's court. A few who had been forcibly recruited earlier elected to stay in Schlaraffenland and become citizens. A few others opted to take the next ship to any other kingdom as long as it wasn't the Southern Isles or Arendelle. The rest, whom the Archon ruled guilty in the abduction of Schlaraffenland citizens, were publically flogged, then sent back to their ship, which was barred from every port in Schlaraffenland.

"They must be desperate, to think they could get away with it here," remarked Lumiere after he found out about what had happened.

The Avonlean clerics took advantage of the crowd that had gathered to watch the punishment (and gawk at the Dark One's promised bride) to preach their message of devotion to the gods. They bore the heckling with surprisingly good grace. They whipped themselves nearly as bloody as the prisoners, which impressed some portion of the audience at least.

"Look at all those people," Sylvie muttered to Belle. "They must think it's some kind of free circus!"

Lady Colette sighed, overhearing her daughter, but only shook her head in resignation.

The next day, they left the ship and crew behind while Belle's friends joined their entourage as they headed inland towards the Dark Castle.


	14. Chapter 14

Lady Colette arranged for a carriage for the family, but Belle had become accustomed to traveling on horseback, so she acquired a horse and rode a few lengths ahead with her friends. The Beggars Clan training must have included riding lessons, as they had no trouble keeping pace. 

"We're not allowed to own horses," Lizzy explained. "But the clan keeps some for common use, and the army lets us borrow mounts if it's urgent." 

"Why beggars?" Now that she was more used to the idea, Belle was curious how it had come about. 

Jacques shrugged. "Why not beggars? Keeps us from getting greedy and taking bribes and forgetting what's important." 

"The Dark One founded the clan," said Ragwort. "We have a saying about him: by a beggar damned, by a beggar saved, and as a beggar scorned. The story is that a beggar changed his life, and that's why..." 

"It's because beggars see everything, and no one sees them," was Lizzy's theory. "No one likes to look a beggar in the face. That's why we're the eyes and ears of the realm." 

"Do you go out of Schlaraffenland?" 

"Shhh!" Jean waved at Belle to lower her voice. "Not that anyone admits to." 

"Well, not us, we've been in Cockayne mostly," said Lizzy. 

"We don't actually live in North Haven," said Jacques. "We just all ran down to North Haven when we heard you were coming here. Lizzy and her ma have a place up in the hills in a town called Goatsbridge. Me and the other roughs go wherever." 

"Goatsbridge is on the way to the Dark Castle," said Lizzy. "I'll show you our house." 

"Have you been to the Dark Castle before?" 

"Once, when we were sworn into the Beggars Clan." Jean glanced at Ragwort. "Though you've been a few times with your mother, yeah?" 

Ragwort nodded. "She's a master bonecrafter. They call her up for services for the Council of Archons, which meets up there every three years." The Dark Castle sat at the top of the mountain pass between Cockayne and the Frontlands, and served as the nominal capital of the combined lands. 

The road from North Haven followed the course of a river and rose gradually up into the hills. The countryside didn't look that different from what Belle knew from the other kingdoms. The roads were well-maintained and well-trafficked, though most freight moved along the waterways as was usual across the realm. 

Less usual was the group of travelers they sighted on their third day out from North Haven as they crossed a stretch of woodland. 

"Ogres!" came the shout from their point rider, who came galloping back in alarm. 

"Quick, off the road and find cover," Colette ordered, already scanning the surrounding area for its defensive potential. 

"Peace," said Lizzy. She gestured at Jacques to ride ahead. "Likely they are no more dangerous than we are, and as much citizens of Schlaraffenland." 

"Monsters! Gods preserve us." Brother Andre gestured at Hugh and the two clerics retreated hastily into the woods on their mules. 

"Ogres?" Belle glanced at her family and their retinue. Some of the household guard remembered the ogre war, and looked tense and fearful despite Lizzy's words. They continued herding the group off the road, getting the carriage under cover of the trees before evacuating it and heading deeper into the woods while the guards readied their weapons. Belle hesitated, turning to Lumiere. "What do you think?" 

"The Dark One negotiated with them a peace many centuries ago, and when Cockayne came under his rule, so also the ogres who dwelt under these lands," said Lumiere calmly. "But should they prove hostile, we can hide ourselves. Ogres have not much skill with magic." 

Jean, Ragwort, and Lizzy stayed mounted, waiting by the side of the road for Jacques to return. 

Jacques came back with one of the ogres lumbering along next to him. "Hey, it's fine. This is Lew son of Ethne. They heard news of, um, you, Belle, and were curious to see what kind of person the Dark One wanted to marry. Well, not see exactly, their eyes aren't the greatest, but you know what I mean." 

Belle stared. She had never seen an ogre in person before. Even on a horse, Jacques looked frail next to the bulk and obvious strength of the ogre. _Born from Titan's blood,_ Belle remembered. "Oh. Um. I am Belle of Avonlea. Pleased to meet you, Lew son of Ethne." 

"So, good and good, being honored am I," said the ogre in a bass rumble, his eyes not quite focusing on Belle's face. "My mother also is wishing this meeting, Belle of Avonlea." 

Belle nodded. "Of course." She risked a glance behind her, where the others trickled cautiously out from the trees. 

The elder ogre waited up the road for Belle to catch up. Two other ogres accompanied Ethne, related in some complex way that Belle mentally simplified to "cousins." She dismounted, keeping a wary eye on the ogres while one of the Avonlean manservants led her horse to one side. 

To Belle's relief, no sudden bursts of violence marred the meeting. Even the clerics were kept subdued by Lady Colette. Colette maintained the facade of serenity as befit a noblewoman, but Belle saw the slight tremble of her hands as she greeted the ogres. 

Then Lew challenged Belle to a duel. 

"What!?" Belle thought at first she had heard wrong. "A duel?" 

"Why should not the Dark One be taking one of my people to wed, if we are strong and stronger?" said Ethne. She began dragging a heavy branch through the dirt to mark out a large circle on the ground. "If you cannot defeat even my son, then you are not being worthy to be calling yourself Rumplestiltskin's bride!" 

"Belle, you can't!" gasped Sylvie, who grabbed at her sister's sleeve, attempting to restrain her. 

"Be wary," Lumiere murmured in Belle's ear. "Ogres are resistant to direct magic." 

Belle glanced in appeal to her friends. They in turn glanced at each other, then shuffled their feet as if unsure what to say. 

Finally, Ragwort said, "It is their custom." 

Jacques glared at the ogres. "Aye, well, it's not to be to the death, hear? Dark One'd murder the lot of you if you tried it." 

"Not if death comes in a duel called and accepted," said Ethne. "No blood right, no vengeance is being owed or due." 

"It need not be death. The duel ends when one cries mercy," Lew put in. "Or when one leaves the circle, that is losing." 

"What weapons are allowed?" asked Belle. "What about magic?" 

"Any weapon is allowed, but only that which you alone are using. One fights one, with no meddling from others," said Ethne. "Magic is weapon like any other." 

"You don't have to do this," Sylvie tugged again at Belle's arm. "Just decline the challenge, or yield. What does it matter if the ogres think you unworthy? You're not marrying _them_ , are you? If they have a problem with that, they can take it up with the Dark One. It's nothing to do with you." 

Belle grimaced. "That's hardly heroic. Giving up at the first obstacle?" 

Colette came up on her other side and gave her shoulder an anxious squeeze. "Darling, you... this is too dangerous." 

"It's all right," Belle replied in a low voice. "I learned a few tricks, in my years away." 

She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. And her wits. She would need all her wits about her in this duel where her opponent outmassed her to the point that one hit from him would send her flying from the circle like the ball in a game of stickball. She nodded decisively at Lew. "I accept your challenge." 

* * *

"She's coming _here_ ," said Rumplestiltskin. The thought was as astonishing now as it had been when the griffons had first brought him the news. "Of her own free will." 

The High Archon of Schlaraffenland listened, patient through all of the Dark One's rambling amazement. "So you've said. Many times. Why have you summoned me?" 

"Well, that kind of courage deserves better than a quick and dirty handfasting in the courtyard." Rumplestiltskin paced back and forth in said courtyard, waving his hands as he tried to find the right words. "She deserves every blessing, but you know as well as I do that the gods have none for me or mine." 

"True enough." The High Archon stood as still as a statue, anchoring the imp's peregrinations. "You are asking me to officiate at your wedding?" 

"Yes, exactly. Will you do it?" 

The High Archon was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded once, slowly. "Then it must be done according to the old tradition." 

"Fine, fine. Do it properly or not at all," said Rumplestiltskin. Then he stopped dead and stared at the High Archon. "Wait... the old tradition..." 

"The tradition for the ruler of the kingdom." 

"Wait, but I'm not really..." 

The High Archon stared him down. "Only the highest marriage in the land can call forth a blessing from the highest representative of that land. You hold the law in your hands, do you not?" 

Rumplestiltskin scowled. "Well, that's what the deals stipulate, isn't it?" 

"Indeed." 

_Tradition calls for three trials. You'll never make it past the first, you pathetic fool,_ hissed the darkness. _No one will bless a monster like you. Just take the girl and have your way with her, and that'll put an end to this nonsense. She's pretty enough to be worth a tumble or two... then you can dispose of her just like you did your first wife!_

Rumplestiltskin shuddered violently, shoving the dark thoughts away. "Then she's to be set three trials. Surely it need not be more than a formality?" 

"It's already begun," said the High Archon, a note of near-pity in her voice. 

"Ah." Rumplestiltskin swallowed back a plea. "Let us hope... hope that she survives it." 

* * *

Belle studied the ogre as they each prepared themselves for the duel: that, too, was part of the tradition, giving each combatant time to come to terms with their fate and say whatever prayers, confessions, or farewells they needed to before it was too late. But it shouldn't come to that, she told herself. She clutched the crystal she wore around her neck, remembering the protection spell the Dark One had cast on it. Rumplestiltskin had saved her from Gaston, even from Nemesis when Belle had been reckless enough to seek out Prometheus. Surely defeating an ogre was a trivial matter compared to fighting back the eagle of divine vengeance! 

"I can do this." Belle mustered as much confidence as she could and smiled at her friends and family. 

Then she remembered what Ethne had said — _One fights one, with no meddling from others_ — and her blood ran cold. It had been more than a spell, hadn't it? Rumplestiltskin himself had come to her aid, she had sensed it. This time he wouldn't be able to help her. 

She shut her eyes, trying to think. She was on her own. The ogre was taller than a house and Belle had only recently begun training in magic. She ran through the spells Lumiere had taught her. She opened her eyes again to see the Timer watching her worriedly. 

"He probably will not be trying to kill you," said Lumiere. "But you may be in for a big bruising. And maybe some breaking..." 

Belle winced, but at least healing was something they had practiced. "Right." 

"You have to promise to be careful!" Sylvie eyed her sternly. "Don't get yourself pummeled into meat sauce just out of pride and sheer pigheadedness." 

"I won't, I swear." Belle removed the crystal from around her neck and concentrated her energies into it. She could cast her own protection spell. The crystal was linked to her. But was she strong enough? When she tested the spell, probing at its weaknesses, and compared it to the size and power of the ogre, she wincedagain. It wouldn't hold, not for more than one or two hits. 

She thought about Regina's mirror magic and how it worked. _Dark magic._ Dark magic tricked and deceived. It could steal someone's strength or twist it against them. _Could_ she use it? She remembered the spell clearly enough, and saw a way to adapt it to her purpose. But should she? She had told her family she used only light magic, knowing they wouldn't want her to darken her soul — she didn't want to darken her soul, either! Was it better to take a beating and admit defeat? She sighed. She was betrothed to a dark sorcerer who had already used dark magic to save her life from mistakes _she_ had made. Could she marry him and look him in the eye and tell him that she refused to sully her soul, that if any dark magic had to be used, _she_ wasn't going to do it (but was perfectly willing to benefit from his power)? 

No, she decided. That was hardly fair. If she was going to be with him for the rest of her life, she should at least know something of his darkness. A little bit would help her understand. She wasn't trying to kill anyone, after all, and it _was_ within the rules set out for the duel. So, then. She had to try. Belle brought the crystal to her lips and whispered to it, telling it what to do. 

Time was called, and Ethne summoned Belle and Lew to the circle. 

Colette moved to stand next to Ethne, nodding gravely. "Mother to mother, I hope your child will show mercy to mine." 

The ogre matriarch's lips curved in a gap-toothed smile. "Mother to mother, I am hoping the same. As the chosen of the Dark One, I am thinking she is more than easy meat." 

Colette's eyes narrowed. "We shall see." Her voice was firm, but Belle could see how pale her mother looked. 

Belle stepped into the crudely drawn circle, to the ragged cheers of her sister and her friends. She glanced back one more time. 

"By luck or by pluck," called Lizzy, a scared look in her eyes. "May you be blessed by both." 

That was the last thing she heard before the circle sealed itself and all outside sight and sound faded. The binding magic felt like an inescapable itch in the back of her mind. She knew she couldn't let herself be distracted. 

Lew faced her and saluted with a sweeping wave of his hand. 

Belle returned the gesture. Her other hand still held the crystal. She had to time this correctly or it would be over within seconds. 

They circled slowly at first. The ogre didn't charge her, which Belle had half-expected. When Lew made his move, it was at a tightly controlled pace, but one designed to pin Belle against the edge of the circle and force her across or suffer worse. 

_Now!_ Belle ducked down to plant the crystal in the ground, where it instantly buried itself as the spell take hold. When she straightened again, _Belle_ was left behind to face the ogre while a ghost slid around him to the other side of the ring. 

Silent and invisible as a wraith, Belle crouched close to the ground, stilling her breath to the merest wisp that wouldn't disturb the air and attract her opponent's notice. Just as silently, she reached out psychically to her crystal and set her second spell in motion. 

Lew closed in to grapple the Belle that was visible. The wraith noted the way he tempered his strength — not wanting to hurt her more than he had to. She smiled to herself, gladdened by this show of goodwill. She didn't want to hurt him, either. 

However, no matter how Lew pushed or pulled, twisted or punched at that Belle, she remained nailed in place, completely immovable. She didn't fight back, but neither did the ogre's attacks do any damage, even as he applied more and more force. The thud of flesh against flesh grew louder and more violent. The illusion had no bones to break, or she would have fallen by now. 

"Your magic is strong," grunted Lew as he tried kicking her to no effect. 

That Belle merely smiled, and if it was a little smug, who could blame her? With each strike, she collected a portion of the energy. She waited as he began to lose his temper, roaring at her to fight back. 

A little more. 

Then she loosed the reflection. An invisible force slammed into Lew, lifting him off the ground to send him flying across the line to crash into the trees. 

Belle scrambled forward to pry her crystal from the ground. The illusion flickered out and only the real Belle was left standing alone in the dueling circle. The world snapped back into place. She blinked, hearing shouts and the stamping of feet, then saw her friends on the sidelines. 

"Woohoo! That's our Belle!" 

Even the ogres saluted her. Lew was on his feet again. He shuffled forward and offered a congratulatory bow. "Well fought, friend." 

Belle bowed back and returned, "Well fought, friend." 

"Without the fighting, there is no knowing," declared Ethne as she went to clap her son on the back. 

Colette examined her daughter with worried eyes. "You are unhurt?" 

Belle nodded. "I'm fine." She lowered her gaze, not wanting her mother to know that she had used dark magic. She knew Lumiere would know what she had done, and hoped he wouldn't give her away. _And now I'm a liar._ No. She promised herself that she would explain to her family later. Surely they would understand her reasoning, once they had time to get used to it. 

"Then the Dark One is choosing well," said Ethne. "We will be offering our good wishes for your union." 

And with that, their party had just expanded. 

"At the least this means no bandits will be bothering us," snorted Lumiere. "Well, as exciting as that was, we have still a few hours worth of light for traveling." 

Unfortunately, the security the ogres offered applied only against physical threats. The next morning the sea wind blew inland, a low fog making everything cool and misty. As they traversed another stretch of woods, the fog thickened bit by bit until it swallowed them up. 

Belle didn't notice at first. She was still tired and drained from all the magic she had pulled out for the duel, and rode along with her eyes half-closed. Her head drooped, feeling heavier and heavier, until it lolled uncomfortably and she jerked awake. It took her a moment to realize that— 

She couldn't see any of the others. 

She couldn't even hear them. Nor could she see the road. She and her horse were alone in the forest. Her heart pounded in alarm. Had she missed a turn? The others wouldn't have left her behind, would they? Was she dreaming? 

"Lizzy? Jacques? Sylvie?" Belle reined in her horse and called all the names in turn, even the ogres. Nothing. She turned around and tried to retrace her route. Had she somehow strayed into the Infinite Forest? She tried calling the Timer again, as the likeliest to be able to hear her across a magical boundary. "Lumiere?" 

"Don't waste your breath." A cloud of green smoke whirled down from the sky, turning into a Timer as it hit the ground in a rustle of dried leaves. The voice was female, arrogant. "I'm far more powerful than Lumiere." 

Belle backed her horse in shock. She gathered the threads of her magic and said aloud, "Who are you? What do you want?" 

"I've heard so much about you, princess." The Timer advanced a step, her eyes studying Belle with a furious intensity. "I wanted to see you for myself. See why _you_ were chosen..." 

"Well, now you see me." Belle stood her ground this time and faced the Timer squarely, glad of the height advantage the horse gave her. 

"Yes, and what I don't see is why you should have everything handed to you on a silver platter when some of us had to slave away for years to achieve our standing," sneered the Timer. "Why did the Queen choose _you_ for the Dark One? What can you offer him that I cannot?" 

Belle chuckled uncomfortably. "I'm human?" 

The Timer hissed and waved a claw. More green smoke boiled up around her, then cleared to reveal a tall human woman with long red hair. Her skin retained a hint of the same green as the Timer. "So am I. I am simply more versatile in my appearance. Another area you fall short in." 

Belle scowled. Was that a dig at her height? She dismounted defiantly. "Listen, whoever you are..." 

"My name is Zelena, you ill-mannered brat." 

"Well, I didn't accost _you_ on the road and start insulting _you_ , so I think that makes you the one lacking in manners," said Belle. 

"Your very existence is an insult," retorted Zelena. "It's only an accident of birth that gives you any standing at all. You stole my destiny from me." 

"I did no such thing!" Belle saw the way Zelena's expression darkened and forced herself to calm down. The woman sounded unhinged. "The Dark One saved my kingdom from the ogres and the price of that was my hand in marriage. I wasn't even born at the time, actually." _So it makes no sense to blame me for it,_ she didn't say. "I'm sorry if... uh... if you wanted to marry him or something?" 

"I deserved to be chosen," insisted Zelena. "I was taken in as an infant and raised in the Wood Beyond. I breathed its air and drank from the rivers of light and dark. The magic of Nevethe is mine, more than it can ever be yours, you earthbound mortal fool." 

"Oooo-kay." Belle smiled placatingly. This Zelena was beginning to remind her of Gaston. "I'm sorry you didn't get what you want, but that's how it is in life." 

"And as long as you get what you want, devil take the rest of us?" Zelena snarled. "Gloating doesn't suit you, my dear." 

"I'm not _gloating_ ," protested Belle. "I had no choice about it. I owe it to my family to pay the price, that's all." 

Zelena's expression smoothed, turned speculative. "You don't want to marry the Dark One?" 

Belle shrugged uneasily. "I don't really know him. What I want is irrelevant. I have to marry him. We promised." 

Zelena took a step closer, smiling. Her voice turned sweet, inviting confidence. "Now, now, dear, don't be so quick to discard your own desires. After all, you're young. You have your whole future ahead of you. If this isn't the fate you would choose, maybe we can do something about it." 

"My father already tried," said Belle flatly, not trusting Zelena. "It didn't go well." 

"And your mother? What does she think?" 

"She... she never liked the deal," Belle admitted. "But I'm almost of age. It's too late to do anything about it now." 

Zelena smiled even more widely. "You haven't married him yet. It's far from too late. You can walk away this very day, this very hour, and free yourself to find a destiny of your _own_ choosing. Wouldn't you like that?" 

Belle thought about it. She hated to admit it, but Zelena did have a point. Colette _would_ be delighted if her daughter wasn't bound to someone she still sometimes called a demon, and of course Belle would have preferred to choose for herself. "Well, maybe. If it was possible. But I'm not the kind of person to run away from a debt..." 

Zelena waved a careless hand. "That's easily fixed. I can take on your debt — your kingdom's debt, if you will. After all, you're paying for all of Avonlea, so why shouldn't I be able to pay for _you?_ " 

"It doesn't seem right," Belle said slowly. 

"No one needs to know." Zelena gestured. Suddenly, Belle was face to face with her identical twin. "You see?" 

Belle stared. "I see." She saw a way out. For herself, if it worked. "But my family, my friends... I can't just abandon them." 

Zelena gestured again. "Easy peasy. You be me and I'll be you." 

Belle felt the magic settle over her. She blinked, suddenly taller and balanced differently. She pulled at a strand of her transformed hair through her fingers. "Even if this works, I can't pretend to be you forever!" 

Zelena scoffed. "Just keep quiet until the wedding's over and it's a done deal. Then we show our true faces again and explain everything to everyone who matters. There won't anything they can do at that point, not once the magic has bound the Dark One to me." 

"Hmm." Belle considered the proposition. "If you take on my debt, then won't I owe you?" 

Zelena flashed a brilliant smile, all shining teeth and mad lust. "The chance to have the Dark One is reward enough." 

"Really?" Belle suppressed a shudder at the predatory undercurrent in Zelena's voice. 

"What do you say? Do we have a deal?" Zelena pressed forward eagerly, reaching for the reins of Belle's horse. 

Belle pulled back hastily. "No, wait." 

"Why the hesitation? What do you have to lose?" 

What _did_ she have to lose? She could have her life back again. Her family would have her back again. Who would lose if she said yes to the deal? Rumplestiltskin, for one. Zelena intended to trick him into marrying her, when _he_ hadn't agreed. When he didn't even know who she was. What kind of basis was that for a relationship? Belle shook her head. She pulled the reins away from Zelena. "No, I have a better idea. We'll both go to the Dark Castle, and you can make your case to Rumplestiltskin yourself, and he can decide if he wants to marry you." 

"It's for the best." Zelena moved to block her from leaving. "He doesn't know what he wants. This is the only way to make sure he doesn't make the wrong choice." 

"How is a choice made in ignorance _not_ the wrong choice?" Belle gave Zelena a flat look. "If you don't want to talk to him honestly, that's up to you, but don't drag me into your schemes. Please get out of my way!" 

Zelena puffed up in rage. "Don't say I didn't give you every chance, you undeserving chit!" Her hands curled into claws, and Belle could feel the magic intensifying around her. 

Belle hastily summoned a shielding spell. 

Zelena's fireball skidded off the invisible barrier and plowed into the ground. Smoke filled the air, little licks of flame catching the dry leaves and brush. The horse screamed in terror, rearing back, then plunged away into the forest, tearing the reins from Belle's grip. 

The first fireball was followed by a second, and it was all Belle could do to keep herself from being burnt to a crisp. 

"Zelena!" came a shout from above. Lumiere! 

Belle gasped in relief. The Timer had brought Otulissa and Eskereye with him. Four against one, Zelena was quickly driven back, powerful and well-trained though she was. 

"What do you think you're doing?" demanded Lumiere. "The Queen won't overlook this. You have not the right to be here." 

"I have every right," countered Zelena, who had shifted back into Timer form for the battle. "The Queen permitted me to answer the call." 

"What call?" asked Lumiere, and Belle wondered the same thing. 

"The _numen_ of the land invoked the three trials." 

"You cannot be serious." 

Zelena grinned savagely. "Why would I lie?" 

"For a dozen reasons that we have not the time to discuss at the moment," snapped Lumiere. 

"What three trials?" asked Belle, but her question was ignored in favor of Zelena and Lumiere's staring contest. 

A contest that Lumiere lost. Zelena laughed in triumph as she took to the air. The griffons moved to pursue, but Lumiere called them back. "Let her go. She was speaking the truth." 

Finally, he turned to Belle. "Are you all right?" 

She nodded. "What did she mean, the three trials?" 

"It has been a long time now since the three trials were invoked," said Lumiere. "It is an archaic tradition. The Blood Lords do not wed; the other kingdoms prefer to barter influence with their political marriages..." 

"So it's some kind of old wedding custom?" Belle hazarded. Now that she thought about it, she _had_ come across the phrase in her books and taken it for pure fiction. 

"A dangerous and unnecessary one." Lumiere's tone was a mixture of irritation and worry. "A custom no more pleasant for him than for you. Why did that idiot risk it?" 

"You mean Rumplestiltskin? Why would he do it, then?" 

"He is at heart too sentimental," grumbled Lumiere. "The ritual invokes the spirit of the land to bless the union. The trials must be passed before the marriage can be recognized. Three for the bride and three for the groom..." 

"And the duel was the first one for me?" guessed Belle. "And Zelena the second?" 

_One more to go,_ chirped Otulissa cheerfully, swooping down to land on Belle's head. 

"Yes, thank you, we can count," said Lumiere. He sighed at all the fires sprouting up around them, using dark splashes of magic to extinguish them before they grew into monsters. "If you are wishing to be helpful, go to find Belle's horse before she is eaten by wolves..." 


	15. Chapter 15

A cheap inn room in the Sherwood Forest was not where Snow White had expected to start the summer. She had hoped to enlist the support of Yrkandos against her stepmother, but King Midas had instead joined forces with Regina. Apparently he considered Prydania to be the bigger threat, with King George and his newly promoted General Lancelot invading the White Kingdom under the pretext of liberating it from the Evil Queen. 

David gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know, I know. But we're lucky Abigail is a kind woman and we were able to escape not only with whole skins but a purse of gold." 

"Do you think Midas turned us down because he's holding a grudge against you for the broken engagement?" wondered Snow. 

David caught her hands and squeezed them reassuringly. "Abigail never wanted to marry me, and we helped her rescue her true love. Why would her father hold a grudge?" 

"Because true love doesn't come with an army, but King George does," said Snow ruefully. "It lost him the alliance with George, and _George_ is furious." 

"I hate politics." David sighed. "I suppose George will use it as a pretext to attack Midas." 

"So he's using my stepmother as a buffer." Snow shook her head. "How can he condone what she's doing to the kingdom?" 

David pulled her in and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Not everyone is as brave as you, love." 

Snow chuckled. "Bravely lurking in a backwoods inn, that's us." 

One of the benefits of having gold was being able to afford to pay a hedge witch for a couple of disguise charms to conceal their faces, which were depicted far too accurately on "Wanted" posters all over the Enchanted Forest. It felt like — it _was_ — hiding, but Snow told herself it was for the best, and a strategic retreat was not the same as surrender. She needed to find people who were willing to fight with her to take her kingdom back. 

David tugged her towards the door. "We can lurk bravely downstairs in the common room and at least get something to eat." 

The common room had the usual crowd of laborers and hunters coming in for a drink, a meal, and usually a game or three of dice. All the tables were filled, except the one in corner where a solidly built young man sat apart. His clothes were of good quality, if old and well-worn, and he could be considered strikingly handsome except for the ugly scars distorting his face and the leather patch over one eye. The other eye kept watch over the rest of the room, and if anyone was 'lurking', Snow would have said he was. 

She glanced at David. He shrugged slightly, and she knew he had her back, so after she ordered supper from the server, she headed to the only empty chairs. "Mind if we share your table, good sir?" 

The young man looked them over, then smiled and gestured in welcome. "Please, sit. I am glad of the company." 

There was something magnetic in his smile, and Snow felt an invisible burden lift, that of constantly being alone and on the run, fearing for their lives. David pulled out a chair for her, then gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder before he sat down next to her. "Our thanks to you. I'm Nolan and this is my wife Mary." 

"Gaston of Avonlea," said the young man in turn. "A pleasure to meet you. You are new to these parts? I haven't seen you around before." 

Snow nodded. "Circumstances forced us from our old home, but we hope to return someday." 

"Circumstances?" Gaston's single eye glowed with sympathy. "Anything I could help you with?" 

"Oh, I wouldn't want to involve a stranger," Snow demurred. 

As an injured expression flickered across Gaston's face, David spoke up hastily, "No offense intended. It's just that it could be dangerous." 

"All the more reason to help," said Gaston earnestly. "I can see you're both good people." He lowered his voice to add, "I may have lost one eye, but that's only sharpened my spiritual sight, and I can see the courage in your hearts." 

At first, Snow was reluctant to trust a man they had only just met, but as the evening wore on and they became better acquainted, she started to change her mind. When they bade each other farewell for the night, Gaston promised to be there again the next night if they needed him. 

Back in their room, David voiced some of the same thoughts running through Snow's mind. "We do need help, Snow. We can't do this alone." 

"I know, Charming, but... can we trust him?" Snow looked at her husband uncertainly. "You're a good judge of character. What do you really think?" 

David sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He seems all right. And we have to start somewhere. What if we can test him somehow?" 

They decided in the end to let a little bit of information slip, as if by accident, then waited. If Gaston was untrustworthy, surely he would turn them in for the reward. After a week, when nothing happened, they met again and told him the truth. 

"The Evil Queen usurped your throne? No surprise there; everyone knows she's in league with the Dark One," said Gaston, with an undercurrent of hatred that caught Snow by surprise. 

"But she's not, not anymore," explained Snow. "He broke with her. Haven't you heard? That's why we went to see if he would help us defeat her." 

"He refused, of course," said David, his hand clenched in frustration around his mug. "Laughed at us. Damn that imp. He's a scourge to the realm!" 

Gaston laughed darkly. "That's the least of it. You know the story of _why_ he broke with the Evil Queen?" 

"The rumor was that she kidnapped his bride," answered Snow. 

" _His_ bride? She was never his bride. She was meant to be mine!" Gaston's face flushed in fury. "We were friends from childhood, and her father promised her to me, but because the king made a deal with the Dark One, that demon stole her from me!" 

Snow's eyes widened in shock. She hadn't heard those details before, had assumed it was another of those political alliances common in the Enchanted Forest. 

"And when I tried to stop him, he did _this_ to me." Gaston indicated the scars, the missing eye. "The demon's magic was too powerful and he took her from Avonlea." 

David scowled. "He has to be stopped. The poor girl!" 

Snow put her hand on his arm, trying to calm him. "We need a way to defeat his magic." 

Gaston grinned, suddenly triumphant. "And I know how." He leaned forward, inviting them closer as he lowered his voice. "More than merely defeat, we can _control_ him and use his magic for good instead of evil." 

Snow gasped. "Is that possible?" 

"With your help, yes, we can do it." Gaston looked at each of them in turn with his single eye. "Help me in this, and then with the Dark One's power in our grasp, we can take your kingdom back from the Evil Queen, and I can save the woman I love." 

"Of course." David glanced at Snow, and she nodded, knowing they were of one mind in this. "Of course we'll help. It's the right thing to do." 

* * *

Belle was met with much relief when she rejoined the others, her friends and family's excitement outweighing the suspicion and fear from the two Avonlean clerics. Even the ogres fussed politely over her mysterious absence. 

"Where _were_ you?" asked half a dozen voices. 

"A side trip, nothing to worry about," said Belle. She explained about the three trials. A long diversion ensued, while everyone tried to remember everything they had ever heard of the tradition. 

"Impossible tasks." Colette nodded to Belle and Sylvie. "Remember? In the stories I used to read to you two when you were small." 

"Oh, those," said Sylvie. "Like the one where you have to count grains of wheat before time runs out. Or pick strawberries in the snow. I used to wish the fairies really would help with that, winter food being what it is." 

"You don't need fairies," Belle told her. "People make special glass houses where they can grow things even if the ground is frozen solid outside. I saw those in Yrkthera." 

"Really?" Sylvie looked at Colette. "We should build some when we get home. I bet Belle has a book about it." 

"Well, not with me, but I can tell you the titles of some that I've read..." Belle offered. "Anyway, I don't think my third trial will be anything like that." 

"What about carrying water in a sieve?" Lizzy suggested. "My mother told us about that one. Or herding cats." 

"Or to spin a room full of straw into gold," offered Lumiere, an amused twinkle in his eye. "Rumplestiltskin had to help someone with that one, once." 

"Hmm." Belle remembered a few examples herself, now that she thought about it. "I suppose that means his trials won't be something he can just magic up a solution for, or what would be the point? Maybe it will be a riddle or a test of wits." 

"The Frontlanders tell of the trial of the wolf, the goat, and the cabbage," was Ragwort's contribution. Everyone stared at her in befuddlement. 

"The wolf, the goat, and the cabbage?" repeated Jean. "What's that about, then?" 

"It's a riddle," explained Ragwort. "A peasant has to bring a wolf, a goat, and a cabbage to market, but there's a river crossing in the way, and the boat can only hold two of the four. The wolf can't be left with the goat and the goat can't be left with the cabbage, and only the peasant can handle the boat." 

"And you need to get all three across without nobody getting eaten, right, got it." Jean nodded wisely. 

"Yeah? How, then?" asked Jacques. When Jean opened his mouth and no solution was forthcoming, Jacques punched him in the arm. "Dolt." 

As they bickered, Belle fell deliberately behind, wanting to ask Lumiere about Zelena. "Who is she? Why did she want to take my place?" 

"Ah," sighed Lumiere, his eyes dimming unhappily. "She... she is unhappy with not being chosen." 

"She said she grew up in the Wood Beyond." 

"That is true," Lumiere conceded. "Her mother abandoned her soon after she was born. In one version of her story, she was swept up by a cyclone into another realm and grew up to be consumed with envy of her younger sister, the child who was wanted by their mother." 

"And in this version?" prodded Belle. 

"The Queen had her brought to the Wood, hoping so to avert her unhappiness. But still envy found her," said Lumiere sadly. "As long as someone exists who has something she has not, she envies. Perhaps we were at fault. She is human and we are not, so we misunderstood the nature of what is needful for a human child." 

Belle huffed in sympathy. "Sometimes I think humans don't know, either. We just try our best, and so did you, I'm sure." 

Lumiere sighed again. "Zelena was Timer enough to cross timelines. When she heard of the Queen's visions, she found a version of the Dark One, one not chosen by Nevethe, and approached him openly, seeking to make him hers." 

"What happened?" 

Lumiere shrugged. "He was rejecting her, and rejecting Nevethe altogether. He found out... well, it is not for me to say. He made it clear he would never take her as his mate." 

"So she decided to try again, in this reality?" Belle wondered how the Dark One would feel about her, Belle, once they met properly. What if he rejected her, too? Would they still have to get married, or would he call off the deal? But she knew enough to know there would be a price for that, too. "Only this time without the risk of him turning her down?" 

"Something like that. That other Dark One, Zelena thought it was because he was not the right one, that was why Nevethe was not choosing that one, and why he was not choosing Zelena. So she offered herself to the _numen_ of this realm, to grant her a chance. The _numen_ answered, and so she was here to test you." 

"Well, I don't know why I was chosen, either, so I'm afraid I couldn't argue that I was somehow more deserving," said Belle. Anyone would be disappointed to want something, work hard for it, and still be denied. "It isn't exactly fair." 

"There is a saying, 'Justice is the right hand of fate,' but there is also a saying, 'Chance is the left hand of fate.'" Lumiere shrugged, a resigned ripple that went from neck to tailtip. "Think of how many people live in this realm. Cogsworth could give you the numbers. All of them except one will _not_ marry Rumplestiltskin. That the exception happens to be you is only your bad luck. Or good luck. Some kind of luck in any case." 

Belle laughed weakly. "I suppose so." 

Lumiere added, "And that is true for the Dark One as well. Why is Rumplestiltskin the Dark One and not any of a thousand thousand others in this realm? He was there, that's all, and his predecessor chose him out of everyone. Some things follow from our actions, our choices, but we can act only on what chance places in our path, or who." 

Belle nodded. "How different are the different versions of people in different realities? Is there one where Zelena and the Dark One fall in love and live happily together?" 

"It is possible, but it would not end there, not for her," said Lumiere. "Love is not all she seeks. She looks at our Queen and envies her power. A union with the Dark One would give Zelena the standing to make a bid for the rule of Nevethe." 

"Oh." Belle felt a little sorry, then, for this hypothetical Rumplestiltskin, whose would-be wife planned to use him as a stepping stone to greater things. It was a familiar tale from the mortal world, where people married for money or power or ambition. How sad that even a forest of trees born of true love was not immune to such abuse. "I hope that doesn't happen." 

The rest of the day passed with lighter conversation. Lizzy and Sylvie between them had solved the conundrum with the wolf, the goat, and the cabbage, and were happy to tell Belle all about it. 

"The key is that the wolf won't eat the cabbage," Sylvie stated firmly. "After that, everything else falls into place..." 

"Right." It was clever enough, Belle supposed, but she knew her last trial wouldn't be so simple. 

The next day they planned to stay the night at Goatsbridge, where Lizzy and her mother lived. It was a small market town built around its eponymous bridge. 

"They're building a canal," Lizzy told Belle. "Right now this is the highest navigable point of the river, 'cause of the rapids, but the canal will go past that and into the hills." 

Belle nodded. The road from North Haven had run parallel to the river for stretches at a time, and she had seen the towpath that followed the water, where draft animals pulled the barges upstream. 

"It'll make it more profitable for the mines up in the hills," said Jacques. "Now there's a job worse than hauling shit all day." 

"Aye, I was scared we'd be dragged to the mines, seeing how we were marked heretics." Jean brushed his fingers over the brand on his face. "Like they do back in Avonlea." 

"Convicts, heretics, and bond servants." Belle had known all her life that to be sent to the mines was a dire fate, but the mines were far enough away from the capital where she grew up that she hadn't thought much about it. Everyone knew that a bond servant, someone forced to sell their own freedom when they had nothing else, barely had more rights than a slave. Slaves had worked the mines in Avonlea in ancient times, until the practice had been outlawed. "But there's no slavery in Schlaraffenland, is there?" 

"No, no, they pay the miners a fair wage for a fair day's work," said Jacques. "The Blood Lords see to that." 

Belle nodded, though she wasn't sure how exactly that worked. "Good." She wondered, then, about the dwarves. The one she had met, Dreamy, hadn't said much, but she remembered that the head of his work gang hadn't wanted him to leave. Dreamy had been in love with a fairy, the two of them making plans to travel the world together on a boat. Just how free had he been? Had he been paid a fair wage for his labor? "Say... are there dwarves in Schlaraffenland?" 

"A few families," answered Ragwort. "And you're right, there's earthfire in their blood. A fair number of them work in the mines." 

"Mining fairy dust?" 

"Nah. Iron, mostly. Fairy dust doesn't mix well with the Dark One's magic," said Ragwort. "Nor fairies, come to that." 

Belle glanced at Lumiere, vaguely remembering that he had said something like that before. "You told me Rumplestiltskin doesn't like fairies." 

"Nor do they like him," said Lumiere. "A long time ago, they came to Schlaraffenland as they did to the other kingdoms, but when the Dark One took power, they washed their hands of it. They said if the people here were so much foolish as to turn to the Dark One for help, they would leave, hoping so to sway their minds. But the people still dealt with the Dark One, and so the fairies come here no more, until the foolish learn to be wise, as they see it." 

"Hmm." Belle could understand that. The fairies hadn't helped Avonlea against the ogres, so the king and queen had appealed to Rumplestiltskin. "But there's still fairies in Avonlea." Not doing that much, but present, as a few lucky beneficiaries of their magic attested every so often. 

"Yes, well, the fairies learned the foolishness of exiling themselves, let us say." 

That was the problem with making threats, Belle thought. You had to follow through if the threat itself wasn't enough, or no one would believe you the next time. But if carrying out the threat hurt you more than your victim, that was one threat you wouldn't want to use again. "So the dwarves here don't work for the fairies." 

"Not for a long time," agreed Ragwort. "Dwarves and ghouls, we meet up for the Underground Games along with whatever other folks like to run in the dark." 

"Oh yeah, we all went last year," Jean chimed in. 

"But you can't see in the dark?" 

"Drink enough cockatrice brew, you don't need to _see_. You can feel the rocks burning," Jean tried to explain. 

"It's made by ogre alchemists," Jacques clarified. 

"Ogres have alchemists?" Belle was stunned by the idea. 

"Go ask your buddy Lew if you don't believe me," said Jean. "Anyhow, we're here. Welcome to Goatsbridge." 

Their party was too large to fit in Lizzy's mother's house, so they reserved rooms at an inn. Goatsbridge was a six inn town, boasted the young touts who met travelers at the bridge and the town gates to lure in customers. More and more of the locals tagged along, curious to meet the legendary promised bride of the Dark One. Belle tried to ignore the whispers and the pointing, smiling her best princess smile when anyone spoke to her directly. 

As they made their way into one of the open squares that punctuated the town's streets, a more imposing figure made her way through the crowd. Belle knew enough this time to recognize a Blood Lord. She, like the Archon of North Haven, wore a mask, though the blood-red markings contrasted differently against her darker skin. She wore clothes as might be seen on any well-off shopkeeper in town, and unnervingly, seemed not much older than Belle herself. 

"I am the mayor of this town," declared the Blood Lord. Bright black eyes searched Belle's face. The mayor nodded, apparently satisfied with what she saw. "Be you welcome to Goatsbridge." 

The welcome feast, held in another open square, was not the more formal entertainment arranged by the Archon of North Haven, but there was food and cheer in good measure, and music and dancing. Even the mayor took a turn in the circle dance, rolling up her sleeves and hitching up her long skirt like a countrywoman. Belle, swept up in the dance along with her friends and family, found herself holding the Blood Lord's hand as they skipped and swayed around the circle. For one dizzying moment, she thought she saw Lizzy's mother's name on that hand. Before she could be sure, the letters squirmed and slithered up the mayor's arm and vanished under a sleeve. 

Later, after many toasts had been drunk to the new bride and her family, Belle asked Lizzy quietly about it. They had retreated from the crowd and the noise to sit on the stairs in an out-of-the-way alcove of the mayor's house, which overlooked the eastern side of the square. 

"Yeah, that's right, all our names are on a Blood Lord's skin." Lizzy eyed Belle curiously. "Only it's in some magical language... you can read it?" 

Belle shrugged uncomfortably. "I told you Lumiere was teaching me magic." 

"Huh." Lizzy took a deep breath. "Anyway, when we swore to Schlaraffenland, we had to cut our palms and make our oaths in blood. When I shook hands with the mayor, I could feel it, like a piece of my soul went into her. Later, when I switched to the Beggar Clan, it was the same thing with the Grandmaster." 

"Wait, so your name is written twice?" 

"No, the local Blood Lords share with the higher order archons, like the Grandmaster or the Archon of North Haven." Lizzy smiled crookedly. "It's magic, I guess. You'd know more than me." 

"Ah, well, I'm no expert," said Belle. 

"No expert at what? Dancing?" Sylvie wandered over to their alcove and smirked at her sister. "That much was clear from the way you were stumbling around out there, Belle." 

Belle rolled her eyes. "I haven't had much chance to practice, these past few years." 

"Didn't you say you went to that royal wedding in Yrkthera?" 

"Mmm." 

"I wager that was something to see," said Sylvie, sounding envious. "Say, do you think the Dark One will throw a fancy ball for your wedding, Belle?" 

It was Lizzy who answered, "Nah, they don't do balls here." 

"Not at all?" Now Sylvie sounded appalled. "Don't you miss them?" 

Lizzy shrugged, her lips quirking in amusement. "What's to miss? Never been to a ball." 

"Oh." Sylvie looked abashed at having forgotten that Lizzy wasn't rich or nobleborn. "Oh. That's a pity. They're great fun!" 

Lizzy snorted. "Aye, fun for a handful of people while everyone else runs around serving them. And those gowns cost a damn fortune." 

"Sorry." Sylvie ducked her head. "I wasn't thinking..." 

Lizzy smiled briefly. "Mind you, we have feasts and festivities a-plenty. As you can see." She pointed her chin at the square below them. "The kind of thing you lot would turn up your noses at for being vulgar, I guess!" 

"I wouldn't!" objected Sylvie. "I didn't, did I?" 

"Weeelll..." Lizzy smirked, letting her nose tilt upwards in mockery. "Maybe a little..." 

"I didn't!" Sylvie looked to Belle for support. 

Belle chuckled. She held up her hand, thumb and forefinger measuring out an inch or so. "Maybe a little." 

Sylvie pouted. "But it's a bit insulting, Belle. You're the granddaughter of the King of Avonlea. Don't you deserve better than a village dance or a troupe of wandering players?" 

Belle shook her head. "What does it matter who my grandfather is? And if the Dark One doesn't take offense, why would I?" 

"The Dark One was born common as dirt, so they say," confided Lizzy. 

"There we are, then," said Belle. "No need to give yourself airs, Sylvie. That won't win you any friends in Schlaraffenland, that's obvious!" 

* * *

"Your young lady passed the first two trials with flying colors," Cogsworth reported to Rumplestiltskin. 

"That's only to be expected." Rumplestiltskin glanced up from his spinning wheel, affecting indifference. "She's clever and kind and brave..." 

"Whereas you think you are not?" interpolated Cogsworth. "While I think you were tempting fate in invoking the three trials, a success here will give you both a solid foundation going forward." 

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Quite the positive outlook. Are you sure your precious numbers support such a wild conclusion?" 

"Yes. Probably." Cogsworth hesitated. "I hope so." 

Rumplestiltskin sighed, turning back to the wheel. "Tell me about her first two trials, then..." 

Cogsworth, who had all the details from Lumiere, told him about the ogres and then about Zelena. 

"Cora's firstborn?" Rumplestiltskin looked up, startled. 

"Born before she met you," Cogsworth confirmed. 

"Ha!" Rumplestiltskin felt an unwilling twinge of respect for Cora's skill at deception. She had never said outright that she had no children when she signed the contract, and Rumplestiltskin had never asked. An oversight on his part, but there was no use regretting it now. "Nevethe made a deal for the child?" 

"Cora abandoned her at birth," corrected Cogsworth. 

Rumplestiltskin frowned. "And the father?" 

"He had no use for the child except as leverage to extort riches from Cora, who even then was angling for a royal marriage." 

Rumplestiltskin's frown deepened. "To no avail, or she wouldn't have needed my assistance. The child... you what, picked her up from a temple doorstep?" That was the traditional place to leave an unwanted infant. 

"From deep in the woods." 

Rumplestiltskin winced. "She meant her daughter to die?" 

Cogsworth shook his head. "She left her to the mercy of the cyclone. It was the tradition of her village that those unhappy with their lot in life could blow their old fate away and find a new one in a new land through the magic cyclone." 

"A portal to Oz!" Rumplestiltskin had researched them, naturally, when looking for a way to reach his son. Another dead end for him — the cyclones went only to Oz and couldn't be shifted to any other destination. "Well, well." 

"In this case, our Queen had us intervene. The baby, Zelena, was taken to the Wood Beyond rather than Oz and raised by Timers." 

"You?" Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow, trying to imagine Cogsworth as a parent to a human child. 

"Other Timers," Cogsworth said with a grimace, apparently just as unable to imagine it. 

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Does that happen often, then? Timers go skipping through the worlds, picking up abandoned bairns like a country maid picking wildflowers?" He twirled a hand in mockery, but he was genuinely curious. 

"Ah. No. Humans do not... do not always take well to... to our realm," confessed Cogsworth. "Zelena was, is an exception." He muttered half to himself, "...maybe too much so." 

"Do tell." Rumplestiltskin could see the Timer was hiding something. "Why her, then? Does she play some part in your Queen's prophecies?" 

"Not as such, but _you_ do, and in another reality, Zelena nearly destroyed you..." Cogsworth paused for a long moment, then shook his head and concluded, "The Queen thought to save some grief by changing her path in life." 

"Hmm." Rumplestiltskin eyed Cogsworth, wondering what he was hiding. "But she still turned up to cause some 'grief', as you put it, to Belle as her second trial." 

"Zelena covets her destiny, and her part in the Queen's prophecies. And, to some extent, _you._ " 

"Me? You can't be serious." 

"Like mother, like daughter?" suggested Cogsworth. "Not that she knew about her mother, at least until you..." 

"What?" said Rumplestiltskin impatiently. "Spit it out, man!" 

"Another version of you from another reality. Zelena approached him a year ago and... shall we say, propositioned him." 

Rumplestiltskin huffed in disgust. "Really, dearie?" 

Cogsworth looked faintly embarrassed. "At any rate, he found out who she was and what she really wanted, which was to replace our Queen and become the spider in the center of the web, with your — his — help. And he, ah, turned her away, saying she was worse than her mother!" 

"A ringing endorsement, I see," snorted Rumplestiltskin. "Remind me to keep out of her way, then." 

* * *

"So what is your plan for defeating the Dark One?" Snow White wanted to believe the best of Gaston, but even if he meant well, she couldn't just throw their lives away in an ill-conceived venture with no hope of success. She knew David felt the same. "He's a powerful sorcerer, even more powerful than my stepmother. Even the fairies are wary of tangling with him." 

"He has magic, yes. That's how he made Belle forget me and turn to him." Gaston's single eye burned with righteous fury. 

David nodded. He murmured to Snow White, "He did that to you, remember?" 

"That potion." Snow clung to David's hand under the table. "I'm so sorry. I did it to save you, but I should never have lost hope like that." 

"I don't know what potions the demon may have fed my Belle, but once we capture him, we can force him to reverse the magic," said Gaston. 

David's face creased in doubt. "He said he couldn't, when it was Snow. He said that only True Love's Kiss could restore her." 

"Well, she loves _me_ ," said Gaston. "I just need a chance to remind her of that." 

Snow nodded. "But you still haven't said how we can capture him." 

"Ah." Gaston grinned slyly. "He is powerful, but before he was the Dark One, he was only a mortal man, a coward. He stole this power and became a monster, but beneath the mask, he is still that coward, and he has a weakness." 

"What weakness?" asked David warily. "And how do you know?" 

"I was given a vision by the gods," Gaston said, his expression allowing for no trace of doubt. "And they led me to a man, a man who knew the Dark One before he became a demon. From this man, I learned exactly what we need for the task before us, and he will bring us the key to our success." 

"What man?" As far as Snow White knew, the Dark One had terrorized the Enchanted Forest for centuries. How could there be any human who could remember so far into the past? "How can he be alive after all this time?" 

"That's a long story," said Gaston. "And as for who he is, he's a sea captain. His name is Killian Jones, but he's better known as Captain Hook of the _Jolly Roger_." 


	16. Chapter 16

Unable to resist temptation, Rumplestiltskin left his spinning wheel and went to consult the crystal ball. Just a little peek, he told himself. He wasn't _really_ spying on her, and this didn't violate the rules of the trials, as long as he didn't interfere. 

"Lying to yourself again, dearie?" 

Rumplestiltskin whirled to face the intruder, lifting a hand as he summoned his magic. He gasped as he recognized _himself_ , only dressed in a _white_ shirt under a slightly less dramatic leather jacket. His hand wavered as he sensed the deeper differences between them — a sense of overwhelming darkness and power that even he couldn't match, and a weight of time and sorrow he had yet to endure. "Breaking and entering. That's no better, _dearie_." 

"What, through wards I know better than anyone? That hardly counts." The other version of Rumplestiltskin held up a palm and shook his head. "Don't. Even. Try. You know you can't defeat me." 

Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth, but he knew the other was right. He let his arm fall back to his side. "What are you doing here? This isn't your world. How did you even cross the void?" 

"How does anyone cross realities? The power of _twue wuv_ , as manifested in a very special tree." 

"Is this some kind of trick?" Rumplestiltskin's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You were sent by Nevethe!" 

"No, no, that old bat had nothing to do with it. She's not the only one who can trawl the nexus." The other grinned and with a twist of his wrist, a wand appeared in his hand. Rumplestiltskin didn't need to hold it to sense the power contained in the narrow stick of wood — wood from a true love tree. "You see? As for what I'm doing here — I'm here to save _you_ , of course!" Then he giggled in his most off-putting way. 

"How kind of you." Rumplestiltskin schooled his face into what he hoped was a neutral demeanor. "And why would you do that?" 

The other Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "You're me, a me who still clings to a shred of hope, battered and frayed though it may be. Perhaps I want someone to learn from my mistake, and who better than myself?" 

Rumplestiltskin, even knowing how deceptive he — the darkness — the future — could be, still asked the question, "And what mistake would that be?" 

"This marriage. It will bring you nothing but heartbreak." The other Rumplestiltskin's words felt as if they were pulled out one painful memory at a time, and his voice had lost its veneer of mockery. "Don't do this. Not to Belle. Not to yourself. Better for you to rip out your heart and crush it before she does; it'll hurt less in the end." 

Rumplestiltskin looked away, unable to meet his counterpart's eyes. He could easily believe that Belle would suffer, being yoked to a monster like himself, but surely she was too generous to want to cause anyone pain, not even the Dark One. 

"You don't believe me," sighed the other. 

Rumplestiltskin swallowed. Finally he managed to stammer, "N-not Belle. If she hurt you — me — no doubt we deserved it. She's not like... not like Milah. Not like Cora. Belle's heart is pure. Full of kindness." 

The other scoffed bitterly. "You should know better than anyone that fear can drive even good people to acts of breathtaking cruelty..." 

Rumplestiltskin flinched, feeling as if he had been stabbed. "We... we make her afraid of us?" 

"It is our nature, alas." The other chuckled sadly. "Though perhaps she loved us—" 

"Loved?" Rumplestiltskin risked a quick glance at the other's face, saw only unhappy honesty written there. How was it possible? 

The other nodded. "She saw something in me, and perhaps your Belle will see the same in you, but in the end... it wasn't there. Not quite good enough, you understand." 

He did. Rumplestiltskin had never been good enough for his loved ones. Not his mother, not his father, not Milah, not Bae, not Cora. It was no surprise that Belle would find him lacking as well. 

"She left me, more times than I want to count. She hid from me on the pirate's ship—" 

Rumplestiltskin gasped. "She... what?" 

"Oh, she didn't go as far as dear Milah, but she made her disgust clear." The other Rumplestiltskin's mouth twisted in pain. "She will cost you both your sons, the one you have now and the one yet to be conceived." 

Rumplestiltskin's jaw dropped. "We will have a child?" 

The other's expression softened into a smile. "Yes. One bright moment amidst the darkness." Then the smile faded. "A child you'll never see born. She sent him away with the Blue Fairy." 

"No!" Rumplestiltskin stumbled back in shock, his fists clenching in horror. 

The other eyed him speculatively. "Though it seems Reul Ghorm has been taken out of play in your reality." He shrugged. "Well, she wouldn't have kept your son long. The blue bug isn't the child minder one might hope for. No, it's the Black Fairy whom my son called 'Mother' for twenty-eight years. Ironically, Belle's fear of _my_ darkness only led to our son being lost to an even greater darkness..." 

"Why? Why would she do that?" whispered Rumplestiltskin. 

"It's very simple. I lost her trust, and once lost, it was gone forever." The other fell silent for a moment, then said, "She put her faith in heroes, in doing the right thing, as she saw it." 

And Rumplestiltskin had never been a hero. That went without saying. Then he grasped at the implications of what the other had told him. The nature of the magic he bore rendered any mortal body infertile, unless— "But... but if you and she had a child, that means it was... it was true love!" Perhaps Nevethe's visions held a grain of possibility after all. "True love..." 

"And yet she deceived me to her dying day," said the other. 

"But why?" 

"Why? Because our love was ill-fated. Because I wanted us to live our life together, but I could never stop being what I was. But I tried." The other scoffed, rage burning underneath his obvious grief. "Oh, how I tried." 

"You tried to banish the darkness." Rumplestiltskin understood why, remembering how it had frightened his son away. 

"I thought we had found a solution. Something she read in a book. But it was a lie. We couldn't truly be together." The other turned his head, hiding his face from his younger counterpart. "She knew, and she kept it from me. After everything, she put her faith in a fairy prophecy. She trusted them still, trusted them more than she trusted me." 

"Always a mistake," snarled Rumplestiltskin. 

"Indeed. So much had changed, I thought _I_ had changed, that the fairies... well, it's always the same for us. So she died, Belle did, with no witness but the Dark One. Then our son..." 

"Your son! You saved him from the Black Fairy?" Rumplestiltskin knew of himself that he would never have given up on his son as long as either of them had a breath remaining. 

The other nodded, another flicker of a smile ghosting across his lips. "For a time. He's dead now, taken by age. Perhaps I should have listened when..." 

After a long silence, Rumplestiltskin prompted, "When your son...?" 

The other continued reluctantly, "When we stood at his mother's grave, he... he offered to take the burden from me." A twist of his wrist, and the Dark One's dagger replaced the wand in his hand. "To send me to her the only way he knew... not that it would have worked, but he didn't know that. But perhaps it would have been a mercy." 

Rumplestiltskin stared at him in horror. "No. You can't regret that. Out of all that I'm guilty of, that's the one thing... I would never pass this darkness on to my son." 

"It destroyed me," confessed the other. "How had it come to that?" 

"It hasn't happened yet!" Rumplestiltskin burst out with sudden clarity. "Not to me, not to this Belle. We can change things. Whatever happened to Bae, I can still save him." 

"Yes, that's what I'm saying." The other waited for Rumplestiltskin to calm down, then reiterated his point. "Call off the wedding. Before it's too late." 

Rumplestiltskin stared into his own face. It couldn't be as simple as that, could it? But he had already set fate in motion by involving the High Archon, who had invoked the three trials. He said slowly, "Is that why you're here? To test me? Is this one of the trials set for me?" 

The other shook his head. "No, this is merely a side trip. A chance to talk myself out of another bad decision. No, I'm _Belle's_ trial, not yours." 

"You're me..." 

"And what worse trial could she face than the monster she's been sold to?" The other bared his teeth in a feral grin, and Rumplestiltskin shuddered at the hatred simmering under the mask, a hatred he recognized all too easily. Pain turned love into despite — directed at himself and at the woman who had abandoned him in the end. "Than the monster she will become if she shackles herself to _you_. I'm her last chance to free herself." 

"You..." He swallowed, closing his eyes as he was overwhelmed by a visceral memory of Milah's heart crumbling to dust in his fist. "You can't mean to _kill_ her. Not outright. The magic of the trial forbids it." 

"But if she fails my test, it is my right to punish her as I wish," hissed the other Rumplestiltskin. "All those years I stayed my hand, no matter the betrayal, because I _loved_ her. Perhaps we are too weak, but no matter. This time I can end it before it begins..." 

_He can,_ chortled the darkness. _He can eliminate your weakness for you. It won't even be your fault, if it's part of the rite. Fate will not countenance your meddling, even if he kills her. No blood price is owed for a death in a trial._

"Please, don't." The whispered plea escaped him before he could bite it back. He opened his eyes to see the other staring at him incredulously. 

The other Rumplestiltskin laughed abruptly. "Oh! Is that how it is? It's too late! You _care_..." 

"No, of course not. I hardly even know the girl." He told himself to stop babbling, that he really _didn't_ care. "But none of this is her fault. If you were serious about ending it, you'd kill me instead." 

"It may come to that, someday." The other eyed him for a moment, then concluded, "But not today. Today I am here by invitation of the _numen_ to try the woman who would wed the Dark One, and there's nothing you can do about it." He twirled a hand and vanished in a cloud of black. 

Rumplestiltskin stared blankly at the empty space left behind. Was this the end of all his hope? This princess that Nevethe had set in his path who was somehow to lead him to Bae, how could she survive this test, if the test-giver remembered her so bitterly? _It was true love._ They had a son together, this other version of himself and Belle. Impossible though _that_ seemed, it had happened once at least, in one reality. 

This reality was different. The other Rumplestiltskin and Belle had _not_ invoked the three trials, he knew it, intuitively. He remembered what Cogsworth had said, and deep in his heart he knew the Timer was right. The rite of the three trials forged a bond recognized by fate itself. 

_If_ they both survived. 

* * *

Belle tried not to worry about what the third trial might be. Better to enjoy the good weather and change of scenery as they rode steadily upwards into the mountains towards the Dark Castle. The carriage was slowed considerably on the climb, giving Belle plenty of time to stop and look around. 

On the third day out from Goatsbridge, she was doing precisely that. She had dismounted at a wide place in the road where it followed the contour of the slope in a sharp fold. From where she stood at the outer edge of the curve, the mountainside dropped away steeply enough that she could see over the trees to the valley below. 

"Looks peaceful, doesn't it?" said a voice right next to her. 

Belle squawked and jumped, startling her horse. The Dark One — of course, who else would it have been? — grabbed the reins. 

"Shh, shh. We wouldn't want you going over the cliff, would we?" Rumplestiltskin leered at her. "Not when there are so many more interesting ways to die." He lifted his free hand and _wrenched._

Belle felt a surge of dark magic rise up around them, tearing at her soul with barely restrained violence, and then the world went dark. 

When she could see again, she found herself standing at the edge of a different cliff overlooking a different valley, one sunk in the the relentless gloom of a moonless night. Her horse, as well as all the others traveling with her, were gone. Only the Dark One remained, his reptilian eyes gleaming with a faint golden light, his expression unreadable. The tendrils of dark magic he had wrapped around her withdrew back into his compact form, leaving her off balance. 

Belle stared uncertainly at him. "Rumplestiltskin?" 

"Indeed, but not the one you know," he said enigmatically. "Come to that, you don't know _him_ either. That is why we're here." 

"Here? What is this place?" 

"This is the Edge of Realms, where eternal day is followed by eternal night." He gestured at something behind them that Belle couldn't see. "That was where we built our house." 

"'We'?" Belle looked into the darkness, but saw nothing even after her eyes had adjusted to the dimness. She bit her lip and concentrated, holding up a hand. A sphere of blue-tinted witchlight floated over her palm, dimmer than it should have been — the darkness here was a palpable weight inimical to her light. She pushed against that weight, lifting her hand to her face and blowing gently. The light bobbed ahead to reveal the shadowy shape of a small cottage. "You lived here?" 

"My wife and I." Rumplestiltskin's gaze followed the path of the witchlight. "She didn't have your gift for magic. Maybe that would have changed things..." He looked away from the house to the wooden cross planted in the earth not far from where they stood. "But maybe not. Magic or no magic, you were always a beacon of light..." 

Curious, Belle let the light float nearer the cross. Then, with a sickening lurch to her stomach, she recognized it as a grave marker. The witchlight blinked out and she breathed, "No..." 

"I buried her here. My Belle. A light I will never see again." 

This was _her_ grave, in another life? Belle turned back to her abductor, the inhuman eyes all that she could see clearly in the shadowed face. The darkness that surrounded him was thicker, fused with an anger and violence she hadn't sensed from the almost playful imp who had once visited her classroom. She wondered about it, but forbore from summoning the witchlight again, for fear of triggering that darkness. 

_The third trial. It must be._ She didn't say it, but only asked, "Why have you brought me here?" 

"This is your chance to free yourself, at the lowest price on offer," he said. " _He_ invoked the three trials. That means that even if you fail, the contract is fulfilled. You owe him nothing more. Avonlea is safe. You can return home with honor." 

"Why... why are you saying this? If you're Rumplestiltskin from another reality and you married a, a version of me, why do you want to stop us?" Belle shook her head. "I don't understand." 

"No. But try." Rumplestiltskin reached out suddenly to grab her wrist. "Think. Imagine. Truly imagine yourself wed to _this_. A lifetime shackled to the monster..." 

"You're not...you..." stammered Belle. A monster? People called him a demon, but it was the dark magic that made him so terrifying. He _hadn't_ hurt her even now, despite being a darker version of himself. "You saved us... that's not what a monster would do." 

He hissed, his grip becoming almost painfully tight. "I hurt her. I lied to her and betrayed her trust. I used her light to conceal my own acts of darkness! You think he won't do the same? Foolish girl!" 

Belle stared at him. She pried gently at his fingers, trying to loosen his grip. And his hold eased, though there was no change in his expression, as if he was unaware of his own accommodation to her. She breathed again. No. This wasn't the full story. She remembered her friends, the people she had met in Rumplestiltskin's land. Dark magic or no, they had... they had seemed happy with their lives. "You must have had your reasons, unspeakable ones maybe, but not unforgiveable..." 

Rumplestiltskin dropped her wrist as if stung, hopping back a step. "Everyone has their reasons. The reasons are irrelevant! I hurt her, just as he will inevitably hurt you." 

"People do hurt each other," Belle said in a low voice, thinking of her family. "People make mistakes. But that doesn't mean... doesn't mean they have to give up on each other." 

His reaction was furious, or perhaps anguished — she couldn't see him clearly enough to differentiate. "Forget whatever romantic notions you have filling your head! I'm not a villain to be redeemed by the love of a 'good woman'." 

Belle flinched. She knew what he meant, having read too many novels fitting that exact description. When she had been younger, she had indeed entertained fantasies of falling in love with a 'bad boy' that she could somehow transform into a hero. 

Rumplestiltskin ranted on, "...this delusion that you're _special_ , that only you can see the good man under the mask, the hero, the savior. There isn't one! I'm sorry, but there's only the truth. Nothing changes. I'm the coward who will fail you to the very end. I have nothing to offer anyone but darkness and isolation!" 

"But... but you married her." Belle's voice trembled. Did he regret it so much? "You didn't think she was anything special?" 

There was a silence. Then he seemed to deflate, covering his face with his hands. He said in a soft, muffled voice, "She was the sun, the bright star that illuminated a life full of darkness." 

Belle remembered Prometheus and his gifts of fire. "But the sun can blind you. Its fire burns. You said you hurt her. She hurt you, too, didn't she?" 

He didn't answer, but she could see it was true. And he was still in pain. 

"I'm so sorry." 

At those simple words, he swerved from grief into anger. "Shut up! You know nothing!" He flickered out of existence, but before Belle could react, he was behind her, clamping her to him with a vise-like arm across her chest and a dagger pressed to her throat. _The Dark One's dagger._ She could sense the unnatural chill of its magic biting into her skin. "I should end this train wreck right now." 

Belle hardly dared breathe, much less struggle. No magic would be quick enough to save her if he decided to kill her. She knew she should be more frightened, but the danger felt distant, and it was an absurd gallows humor that bubbled to the surface instead. "Stabbed in the the neck by a knife? It's not really what I'd call an _interesting_ way to die." 

Silence. Then she felt a tremor in her captor's arms, and she didn't know if it was laughter or fury. But the blade dug no deeper, and she began to hope. When the next sound out of his mouth was indeed a choked laugh, she relaxed a little. Rumplestiltskin freed her as suddenly as he had grabbed her. She nearly fell over in relief. She also missed his proximity — just for a moment, the darkness around them had felt less oppressive — but she pushed the stray thought aside. 

"It's not just any knife, dear," he said at last. He flipped it from hand to hand, the letters of his name gleaming silver where they caught the starlight. "She didn't want the Dark One, you see. She didn't want magic. For her sake, I sealed the darkness inside this dagger." 

Belle nodded. Despite the good he had done with it, she could imagine that such powerful dark magic was no easy burden to bear. This other Rumplestiltskin, however much older he was than the one from her reality, sounded weary beyond belief, his voice worn down from pain and grief. 

"We retreated from the world to pursue a life of peace." 

"Here?" Belle remembered the cottage glimpsed in the shadows. "But why choose a realm sunk in eternal night?" 

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "When we came, it was filled with the light of eternal day. It was beautiful. For a time, it was everything we could have hoped for." 

"You were happy," breathed Belle. 

"But everything comes at a price. And our happiness was based on a lie. A false hope." His voice dropped to a broken whisper. "And then nothing..." 

Belle shut her eyes, trying to imagine the same place, bathed in sunlight. She walked forward slowly towards the cottage, wondering what it had been like to live there. She heard footsteps behind her, but he didn't try to stop her. The door creaked open under her touch and she made her way inside gingerly. The air was dusty with no scent of human habitation. "How... how long?" How long had the place lain abandoned, she meant. How long ago was his last day of happiness? 

"Time passes strangely here," he answered from behind her. Then he moved past her to reach for something on a shelf or mantelpiece. "A lifetime or more." 

Something clinked, then light sprang up between his hands. Belle blinked against the sudden brightness, then realized he was holding an oil lamp, the flame burning inside a clear glass chimney. She looked around and saw that despite the supposed passage of time, everything seemed perfectly preserved. No holes in the roof, no rot in the walls. No thieves, human or animal, had looted the little house. An ordinary little house in an extraordinary world. The furnishings looked comfortable, lived in. _Cosy._ Not a word she would ever have expected to associate with the Dark One. 

He turned, gaze focusing on a well-padded armchair. He whispered, "Her chair..." 

Belle watched helplessly, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She took a step forward, wanting to comfort him. Before she could touch him, he spun about, slapping her outstretched hand away. 

His eyes were wild, desperate. "No!" His voice rose to a hysterical pitch. "Lies! Illusions! Don't you _dare_ show that face to me. She's _gone_ , she's _lost_ , and I'll never see her again. Do you hear me?" 

Belle swallowed, trying not to flinch. She said softly, "I know I'm not her. I only meant..." 

"There's nothing to be done." His lips drawn back in a snarl, he flung the lamp into the chair, and both shattered as his rage and grief burst free in an explosion of dark magic. 

Flashes of red lightning engulfed the entire house, tearing it to pieces all around them. Belle gasped as splinters flew towards her, but an invisible shield kept her and the Dark One untouched. 

By the time the lightning faded, they were standing in the middle of a layer of dust that was all that remained of the cosy cottage in the Edge of Realms. Rumplestiltskin was hunched over, panting heavily with his hands over his face. 

"Rumplestiltskin?" She didn't dare try to touch him again, knowing that he was right, that there was nothing she could do to bring back the dead. 

He lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes faded from their earlier agitation. "Belle." 

The way he spoke her name with such hopeless longing and regret made her feel like a living ghost. Belle swallowed the lump in her throat. "You... I thought for a moment you meant to obliterate me along with the house. I... I'm glad you didn't. Thank you." 

He turned away, then said in a low voice, "Too perceptive by half. I should have. For you, death is only the gateway to a better place..." 

"What stopped you?" 

He shook his head without meeting her eyes. "I couldn't. Even now, I... couldn't do it." 

"Then... then will you tell me what happened that you're so alone? How... how did she die?" Belle knew the hazards of prescience, but as they had established, she was not the same person and neither was he, and history was not the same as prophecy. 

He risked a glance at her, then reached out to grasp her hand in hers. With his other, a flick of his wrist put a wand in his hand. "I'll do worse than that. I'll show you. And then you'll see why you must leave him." 

The tip of the wand touched her forehead. She fell instantly into a maelstrom of voices and images. She had felt this before, but this time it was clearer. More intense. 

_Blood on the tree._

She strained to pick out words and patterns... 

_This means it's true love!_

_I knew it was a trick!_

_You could have had happiness..._

_That's a lie._

_All you'll have is an empty heart._

_I don't want you anymore, dearie._

_I see only the beast._

...and then everything snapped into focus. She heard her own voice reading from a scroll. "When the Dark One finds Eternal Love at the Sun's brightest set where time stops, the path will appear to where the darkness shall rest." 

But it was only a memory, and underneath the hopeful words ran a current of overwhelming grief. The scene shifted, and she saw an ancient, dying version of herself in the same cottage that had just been destroyed in the present time. She saw a man weeping over her, and recognized with a start that it was Rumplestiltskin in a purely human face, looking younger than his wife and yet no younger than he looked today. 

The Dark One was immortal. It didn't matter if he shed his glittering skin, didn't matter if he sealed away his magic inside the dagger, the magic the aged Belle refused despite being on the brink of death. 

_It was the prophecy. She had to die._ The present Rumplestiltskin haunted present-day Belle in the memories, seeing what she saw. _She knew, and she never told me until it was too late._

_You wanted to be together,_ thought Belle. The light streamed in through the windows, bathing them in a warmth that seemed to mock their sorrow. 

_A fine delusion. Until it came to an end. She went where I can never follow..._

The images faded, and she was left with the impression of hands carving wood to mark what time had taken. 

_She died at peace,_ Belle tried to console him, but he might as well have been deaf. The painful memory shimmered, resonating with echoes of many, many more. One took precedence over the others, the sum of all pain, all resentment, all the hatred earned over an overlong lifetime. The memory burned soul-deep, inescapable agony... 

Then Rumplestiltskin's shadow fell between her and the pain, and she could think again. Then the horror of what she had just witnessed shook her to the core. _You... you were dead. That was..._

_That was hell. Yes._ The voice of the ghost was flat, drained. _And that is my fate should I die again as the Dark One. Damned for eternity._

_And that's why you think you'll never see her again,_ Belle realized. _But... but you can't accept that! It can't be right... you don't deserve..._

_Don't I?_ More memories flooded her, a tangle of guilt and fear. She saw a face she recognized as Zelena, taunting him with his son's death. She saw him gone blind with grief, no longer able to distinguish light from dark. She saw him lose himself to darkness and murder a woman he had once loved. She saw a boy's accusing face staring up at him, lit by an unnatural green glow — and Rumplestiltskin letting go of the boy's hand. Leaving him to fall into the void. 

_I abandoned my own son,_ whispered the ghostly voice that trailed after her. _And when I found him again, I stole his life. What kind of father kills his own child? So you see, hell is where I belong._

_You had no choice,_ Belle wanted to protest, having seen a vision of the Dark One rising from the snow-covered vault. _Zelena..._

_If I had been a better father, he wouldn't have been so desperate._

She still didn't think he was to blame. And what about the other Belle? Surely she hadn't blamed him, either. 

Then to her horror, she saw her own face turned against the Dark One. The Belle of memory wielded the dagger in her hand to banish her husband. She watched that Belle turn away even as the human Rumplestiltskin in the memory fell to his knees and begged for mercy. 

_That was her judgement on me. A monster deserves no mercy._

Belle was stunned. She couldn't reconcile that scene of their marriage broken, seemingly forever, with the vision of the old Belle on her deathbed, holding her husband's hand with such love. 

_She was right the first time,_ came Rumplestiltskin's bitter commentary. 

More memories washed through her, but she was too shaken to comprehend them properly. Time sped forward, and Belle saw the grave marker again, roses carved into the cross. She caught a glimpse of someone — another son? — but he soon faded. 

_He's with his mother now. Taken by time. Another soul I'll never see again._

She saw then how loss transformed the man back into the imp, darkness unsealed at last and all the stronger for having been locked away for so long. 

_So many desperate souls,_ sighed the ghostly Rumplestiltskin. _I refused to use magic for so many decades that the debt was almost too much to bear._

Debt? More memories, older than Rumplestiltskin himself, seeped into Belle's mind. The magic of the Dark One was fueled by fire stolen from heaven. Prayers and wishes were his to hear, as one of fate's instruments. 

_The Dark One isn't a god,_ Belle couldn't help thinking, imagining how outraged the clerics would be that anyone entertained such a notion. 

_Nor are fairies, but... reluctant as I am to admit to any similarity in our natures, we are both given power by the belief of those who would call upon us._

Belle remembered then that _her_ gift of magic had come from a Titan. Did she, too, have an obligation like theirs? 

The ghostly Rumplestiltskin laughed softly, seeming to catch her thought. _If so, I am sure it will make itself known to you._

Belle imagined herself nodding. _So, your 'debt'?_

_Oh, I was selfish. I didn't want to pay. And I didn't want to pass it on, because dying by the dagger would mean giving up on ever reuniting with my Belle. There was still the damned prophecy, you see._

_You believed in it..._

_It spoke of a Guardian who could take the Dark One's dagger and keep it safely, thus freeing me from the darkness to live out my days as a mortal man, with a chance to find my family again in death._

_And did you ever find this Guardian?_

Another image came into focus — a young woman, bright and innocent, who had spent most of her life imprisoned alone in a tower. 

_She had the power to contain the darkness, and the good heart to keep it safe._

_But you didn't give up the dagger._

_No. Because the prophecy lied. She would have had to hold the darkness forever. Live forever or risk setting it loose again. And that's not laying to rest, that's condemning another soul. Alice had only just escaped one tower. How could I lock her in another prison?_

_You couldn't._ Because he was a good man. Belle could see that now, shining through all the times he failed, but tried again, and again, to get it right. _And after you let her go?_

Belle glimpsed the years rushing by, the darkness taking its toll on its host. _It blackened your heart again, didn't it?_

_I returned to the Edge of Realms, hoping to find something, some clue I had missed. Some way to avoid the inevitable._

_And you found it,_ she realized. She saw a tree, one among many, but one unlike all the others. Her breath caught as she recognized what it was. _A true love tree. Your tree. It wasn't in the Wood Beyond. It was HERE._

She saw the Rumplestiltskin of memory reach out to the tree, saw his stunned expression as he touched it. Days passed in memory. Then— 

A flash of metal. And... the Dark One's blood spilled on the tree. Leaves withered and fell, branches cracked, fell. 

_You lashed out at the love that had betrayed you..._

_It was the only power that could stave off the darkness consuming my heart. The love we used to share._

The tree gave up its life, gave up its magic, all of it harvested by the Dark One into a wand carved out of its own wood. And as it died, night poured from its roots, rising as a lightless vapor to swallow up the sky. Darkness blotted out the sun, and night descended at last over the Edge of Realms. 

And that was the world Belle opened her eyes to. 

Rumplestiltskin stood a little ways away, having loosed his grip on her hand sometime while she was lost in the visions. He watched her, his stance wary, as he waited for her to gather her wits. 

Belle cleared her throat. "So that's how it was." 

"That's how it was. Any goodness she saw in me, whatever love we had — it's all gone. I fed everything to the darkness in order to cling to this pathetic existence." 

Belle stared at him, looking for a lie. "No, it can't all be gone. I don't believe that." 

"Your belief changes nothing. There's nothing left except the power." He twisted the wand around his fingers. "Power, and resentment. Nothing more. So now you know. This is Rumplestiltskin's fate. A demon lost in eternal hopeless night, forever alone." 

"You're not alone," said Belle impulsively. "I'm here, aren't I?" 

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes. "Don't. Don't do this to yourself." He tilted the wand in her direction. "Tell me you'll turn around and walk away from him. Tell me you'll save yourself from making this mistake. I'll send you back, and you can forget you ever met either of us. I can even make you forget... one flick of this wand can give you your life back." 

"No! Don't you dare!" Belle dodged away pre-emptively, even though she knew he could catch her in an instant, if he chose. But he hadn't moved, had he? That meant he was mistaken. Or simply lying to convince her to give up. Either way, he still cared. There was still hope. She couldn't let _him_ give up. "Listen. Listen, Rumplestiltskin. You're wrong. Let me help you. Please, please let me try." 

He lowered the wand to stare at her, incredulous. "What. What can you possibly try that will make any difference to my doom?" 

"I... I'm the one who freed Prometheus..." Maybe she was going mad, but she could almost see it in her mind's eye, the shape of a solution. She only knew she had to make the attempt. She couldn't abandon Rumplestiltskin to suffer eternal torment, even if this wasn't _her_ Rumplestiltskin. 

"The rebellious Titan? _You_ freed him?" 

"Yes. And he was bound for many times longer than you've even been alive," said Belle. "So please, let me try to free you." 

Rumplestiltskin laughed softly, a disbelieving puff of breath. "You will never cease to amaze me, no matter what reality we find ourselves in..." 

Belle smiled weakly. "Well, some people are easily impressed." She risked stepping towards him. "I... I think I need to use your wand for this." She had used the petrified trunk of the Titan's true love tree when she had freed him, but she had the feeling the wand made of Rumplestiltskin's tree could serve as well. 

He handed it over. "It's not as if things can get much worse." 

"Never say that," Belle chided him. "Shouldn't you know better than to tempt fate?" 

"Some people are slow learners, apparently." He watched her dolefully. "Or why else am I trusting any version of you not to rip my heart out again?" 

"This is the last time, I promise." She pulled her crystal from under her shirt and touched it to the wand. She sensed the magic locked in the wood answer her thoughts. A door. A bridge. The Dark One had used the wand to open a path to her reality. What was the afterlife but another reality? It was only the darkness in Rumplestiltskin that prevented him from finding the blessed isles of the dead. 

Using the wand and the crystal, Belle was able to open the gate and build the bridge between their realms. She couldn't cross, because she was still alive, but this Rumplestiltskin had died before. The light of heaven pierced the night, painting a shimmering path rising from the edge of the cliff. 

Rumplestiltskin looked from Belle to the path and back again, eyeing her dubiously. "Is this you tricking me into diving headfirst into the rocks? I warn you, the Dark One cannot be so easily killed." 

"No, I wouldn't want to annoy you like that," agreed Belle with a smile. She knew he was afraid. Who wouldn't be? Then she had the answer: someone who was already on the other side. Of course! "Go on. Trust me. No, trust _her_." 

"Her?" Then his eyes widened, and he turned back to the path, where an indistinct, glowing figure stood at the far end of the bridge... waiting. "It can't be..." 

"I think it must be." Even though she couldn't see the other clearly, she felt an instinctive connection between them. It was herself standing there, a Belle from another life, a life that was now over, a shade waiting patiently for her true love to catch up. 

Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath. Then, "Belle..." He stopped, looking at her helplessly. He pulled the dagger from his jacket and offered it to her. 

Belle accepted it silently. The name had already begun to fade. 

"You..." He didn't finish the sentence. 

She didn't need him to. "I know. Go." 

He nodded tightly. "Then, thank you." He turned and stepped tentatively onto the path. When it held beneath him, he took another step, then another, losing substance as he drew closer to the top. Finally, just as he reached the top and the soul waiting for him there, they were both swallowed by the light. 

Then the gate shut and darkness settled over the land again. 


	17. Chapter 17

The dagger dissolved into air with his passing.

The wand in her hand was all that was left of the other Rumplestiltskin. Exhausted by the ordeal, Belle dropped to the ground a little ways back from the cliff, lying on her back with foreign stars twinkling down upon her. The night was only night, no longer burdened with a layer of dark magic. 

All that had gone with the dagger, melted away like a pool of water absorbed by the soil. Laid to rest, just as the prophecy had stated. Which meant Rumplestiltskin had been the Guardian all along, keeping the world safe from the darkness. But the prophecy hadn't said it would rest forever. With Rumplestiltskin's final death, the darkness was free again. The power couldn't be destroyed, but it could be changed. Belle hoped that the next soul to take on that burden would suffer less from it, now that the darkness had been tempered by true love. 

Meanwhile, the Rumplestiltskin in her reality still lived with that darkness sharing his soul. He had made a deal for her hand in marriage. She was almost sure he had been guided by foreknowledge. What was he hoping for? That she would love him just as the other Belle had loved her Dark One? 

Was it what _she_ wanted? She remembered the warnings of the other Rumplestiltskin. He had told her to really think about it, and he was right. She did tend to act on impulse, and he knew her well enough to know that, which was... strange. Strange to cross realities and meet each other out of step like this. 

Her Rumplestiltskin had invoked the three trials. Why? Was it an attempt to change his fate? Because he knew what had happened to his other self and wanted to take a better path? Ghostly memories lingered in the back of her mind, and Belle thought that in his place, she might have done the same thing. What was the point of having knowledge if you didn't learn from it? Surely he must have known how much he was revealing to her when he sent his other self to test her. 

Three trials, three chances to choose and choose again. 

And now that she had met Rumplestiltskin, or at least an echo or reflection of him, she thought that she could choose _him_. Knowing a little of him, she wanted to know more. She wanted him to look at her the way the other Rumplestiltskin looked at the other Belle. She had seen something of his lonelines, felt it in her own heart, and longed to ease that loneliness for both their sakes. 

Sometime during that long night, the sheer strangeness of his appearance had become familiar to her. She wanted to see him again. The thought of leaving — of going back to Avonlea and never hearing his voice again — felt unbearable. The idea of marrying anyone else struck her as laughable. Certainly none of the noble class of Avonlea, and not even any of the people she had met in her years of travel, held any romantic appeal to her. 

Did Rumplestiltskin? If she was honest with herself, the answer was... maybe. Even... _probably_. Yes. But the Dark One? The darkness was part of what he was, and Belle couldn't let herself forget that. Darkness could be cruel, could be selfish. Could she live with that? 

She had to go back. That was her answer. As to how, the other Rumplestiltskin had used the wand to cross between realities. She could do the same. She just needed to take a nap first, recover her strength. No one should attempt transdimensional travel unless fully alert! When she woke from her nap, it was still night, but she thought maybe the stars had shifted (or the world had turned). Perhaps it would be day the next time she came here, if she ever did. 

"Right. Focus, Belle, focus," she told herself. The wand felt fragile in her hands, as if Rumplestiltskin's death had hollowed out its core. Testing its power, she thought there was enough left for one more trip. "I'd better get it right, then." 

* * *

"She did _what?_ " Rumplestiltskin stared at Cogsworth in astonishment. 

"We think she killed the other Rumplestiltskin," the Timer repeated. "Lumiere didn't get many details out of her. She said it was 'personal.' But the fact of the matter is that she returned to camp alone, using your counterpart's wand. Which disintegrated shortly after arrival, by the way." 

Rumplestiltskin was speechless. 

"Yes, well, they asked what had happened, naturally. That was when she said that the other Rumplestiltskin was dead." Cogsworth shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fussing uselessly with a scroll, obviously no more comfortable giving the report than Rumplestiltskin was to hear it. 

"If that bastard tried to kill her—" 

Cogsworth shook his head. "No, I doubt it. She would have expressed greater hostility. Lumiere said she sounded melancholy. Not afraid. Not angry, as one might expect." 

Rumplestiltskin scowled. He hated not knowing. Hated the panicky feeling ignorance induced, the sense of everything spiraling out of control just out of his sight. "But it's done. That was her third trial, which she dealt with in her own inimitable way, we can infer that much. And she's still coming here?" 

Cogsworth nodded. "Which means it will be your turn soon." 

* * *

Her mother was worried about her, brow furrowed more deeply the closer they approached the Dark Castle. She was worried enough to speak to Belle in private. 

"I saw the look on your face when you came back," Colette said. "Please, if you need to talk..." 

Belle shook her head. 

"If he hurt you, if we need to help you..." 

Belle sighed. "It's not like that." 

"Then what is it?" Colette pleaded. "Whatever it is, surely better to let it out than to drown in a flood of unspoken words." 

Belle hesitated, torn. What had happened between herself and the other Rumplestiltskin was between them only. What he had shown her wasn't for her to share, even with her own mother. She admitted at last, "I was afraid, at first." 

"And later?" Her mother held her gaze anxiously. 

"We spoke." Belle smiled briefly. "All very right and proper for two people pledged to be married. Though he wasn't exactly who I'm promised to, and I'm not the Belle from his reality. Even so, I like to think I came to understand Rumplestiltskin better." 

Colette shot her an alarmed look. 

"What? I thought you'd approve." 

"Belle, you must take care." Colette reached out to grasp both of Belle's hands. "A marriage is one thing, but to give him your heart is far more dangerous than a mere contract." 

"I know that." Belle had seen enough to know it wouldn't be easy, but wouldn't it be worth it? Happiness _was_ possible for them, and it would be a kind of betrayal to give up on it. "He's not the demon people think he is." 

But Colette still looked troubled. "Say what you will, there is darkness in him. I fear for your soul, should he draw you into that darkness." 

Belle looked away. She said softly, "The darkness... I think the darkness isn't what people think it is, either." 

"You think? Or you hope?" Colette let go of her hands and straightened, her eyes going distant. "You know, I met Regina once..." 

"Regina?" Belle was caught off guard by the shift in topic. "You mean..." 

"Queen Dowager Regina of the White Kingdom, though she was not queen then," said Colette, sounding a little sad. "It was two years after the ogres. You won't remember, but your father and I were away that summer for a month, sent by the king to re-establish Avonlea's relationship with Lishanya." 

Belle nodded. "So she would have been, what, seventeen, eighteen?" 

"Fifteen. A sweet, kind girl with an open heart." Colette smiled. "I met her at the king's court in Lishanya. Her father was the fifth prince. I remember she had a passion for horses." 

Belle tried to reconcile this image of Regina with the Evil Queen who had kidnapped her. 

Colette sighed. "And then, of course, she became the student of the Dark One. She had her reasons, no doubt. I remember her mother, too. The coldest woman I've ever met, and a sorceress according to rumor." 

"But she's gone now?" As far as Belle knew, the Evil Queen had ruled alone. 

"There are rumors. In any case, Regina became, under the Dark One's tutelage, a woman known as the Evil Queen. Someone capable of ripping out your heart on a whim and crushing it. Someone who—" Colette broke off abruptly and glanced away. 

"Who did what?" Realization dawned. "You _know_. Know what she did to me..." 

"We heard rumors," Colette admitted in a pained voice. "But I understand that you feel you can't trust your family anymore, not after what happened with Gaston." 

"It's not like that," Belle rushed to explain. "I just didn't want you to worry!" 

Colette grimaced. "But I can't help but worry. You're my daughter. I worried then, and I worry now..." 

Belle forced a laugh. "I have no plans to turn into an evil queen, Mother." 

"I doubt the innocent girl I met in Lishanya planned any such thing, either." Colette gave her another troubled look. 

Belle swallowed, wondering if her mother had a point. Had _Rumplestiltskin_ even known what he was in for when he became the Dark One? 

Colette nodded as if Belle had answered aloud. "Precisely." 

"I used one of the Evil Queen's spells," Belle confessed impulsively. "In the duel with the ogre. It was dark magic. I know I said I wouldn't, but..." 

"Oh, darling." Colette reached out to hug her. "You were afraid, weren't you? Anyone would be." 

Tears pooled in Belle's eyes and she sniffled once. "It turns out I'm not much of a hero, after all." 

Colette rubbed Belle's back. "None of us were, when Avonlea faced the ogres. We called the Dark One, remember." 

"But this is different. Lew wasn't going to kill me." Belle knew she had let her mother down, but she couldn't hide her shame any longer. "I just wanted to win." 

"It's not wrong to feel fear, or want to win," Colette said. "It's only wrong if you harm people unjustly because of your fear or ambition. You didn't kill the ogre." 

"The Dark One's killed people," whispered Belle. Had threatened her, even if he hadn't been able to follow through with it. The darkness in him was more than ordinary human darkness, and yet... it didn't negate love, did it? 

"So you understand why, as your mother, I cannot help but worry." 

Belle nodded. "I do, but I still... I have to try, with Rumplestiltskin." 

"I know you have to be true to yourself. But please, Belle, please be careful." 

After that, Colette kept her worries silent, and Belle presented an optimistic face to everyone else. 

* * *

The Dark Castle was finally in view, and to Belle's eye, more gray than actually dark. It dominated the top of the mountain pass from the foot of one of the peaks, but by the forest encroaching the walls, it had not seen battle for a long time. The road snaked across the one clear space in front of the castle, ending at the main gates. With no guards stationed at the gatehouse, the ogres stepped forward to do the heavy lifting, easy enough given their inhuman strength. Belle could imagine what a nightmare it must have been to face them in a siege. The Schlaraffenland army, if it really did include ogres, must be a terrifying foe in any war. 

The towers were unmanned as well, but Belle felt the tingle of defensive wards as they passed under the walls. On the other side, the courtyard was planted with a formal garden, all straight lines and angles and neatly sculpted hedges. 

"He must employ gardeners at least," Belle said to Lumiere. "Or is it all done by magic?" 

"Magical gardeners," was Lumiere's reply. 

"That... seems extravagent." Belle wondered why he would do that. She turned to her friends for an explanation. 

"Oh, aye, folk trade their souls to the Dark One when they have naught else to sell," Ragwort told her. "Mind you, not even the Dark One would dare hold them from the underworld forever, but that's still plenty of years of service. So he practices his soul craft on them, binding them into wood or metal or other such. So if you see a floating pair of hedge-trimmers, say, there you have it." 

"Necromancy!" Jean pronounced gleefully. 

The clerics glared at them murderously, muttering threats of damnation, but obvously knew when they were outnumbered. 

The stablehands that came out to meet them in the courtyard turned out to be animated mannequins, clothes stuffed with straw supported on a jointed wooden skeleton. The Avonlean visitors were taken aback, but Lumiere was unfazed, poking and sniffing at one of the mannequins. 

"He has refined his technique since the last time I was here," Lumiere said to the mannequin. The mannequin looked unimpressed, wooden feet clomp-clomping almost rudely past the Timer to fulfill its duty, joining the crew taking the carriage to the carriage house. 

The visitors continued on foot to the main keep, even the ogres. An enchantment over the front door temporarily reduced their body space to fit indoors. Belle lagged behind to study the intricate spellwork. 

_He learned it from Wonderland,_ said Otulissa, perching on top of the doorframe to look down at Belle. _But his version is different. Takes less energy to maintain._

Belle caught up to the others in the great hall of the keep. The small crowd parted for her, everyone assuming the Dark One would be eager to see her. She made it to the front of the group and stopped. There was a throne of sorts at the end of the room, but it was empty. Rumplestiltskin twirled and pranced around it without ever sitting down. Cogsworth and what seemed to be another Archon, this one a sandy-haired woman of middle years, stood behind the throne on either side. Catching sight of Belle's entrance, they muttered something to Rumplestiltskin. 

He spun about and swaggered towards her, wild-eyed and twitchy. He looked her up and down, then tittered. "Come to meet your monster head on? Such a brave, brave little princess!" 

"Who are you calling 'little'? I'm not that much shorter than you!" Belle could see that he was nervous, and had wanted to say something to break the ice, but his eyes bugged out even more at her familiar tone. Which was when she remembered that her feeling of acquaintance was an illusion based on meeting an older, alternate version of him. She smiled carefully. "Sorry. Long journey. Tired." 

"Hmm." Rumplestiltskin managed a rueful smirk. "Yes. So I see." Then he swirled away again, his mask of careless superiority back in place. "And what of your dear companions? Is anyone going to make a proper presentation of our esteemed guests?" 

Belle blushed. In the excitement of finally meeting her Dark One properly, she had forgotten everyone else. She turned. "Ah, here are my parents, Lady Colette and Prince Maurice of Avonlea." Her father would have felt slighted to be named second, but he wasn't awake to protest, and Belle felt a petty satisfaction in her mother taking precedence for once. 

"Delighted to see you again, dearie." Rumplestiltskin bowed to Colette with impish grace. 

"The delight is all yours, I'm sure. I take no joy in losing a daughter," Colette said with some asperity, before taking over the rest of the introductions, including the ogres, and ending with the two runaway clerics. 

Rumplestiltskin sneered and circled uncomfortably close to them, causing the clerics to cluster together even more tightly. "What have we here? Two brothers of the order of the flagellants? Here to witness our happy union and call down the blessings of the gods?" 

The clerics tensed, faces pale and stiff, both of them making the sign against evil. Andre pushed forward and glared at the Dark One. "You shall hear only their curses!" 

Hugh restrained Andre with a hand on the other's arm. "Remember our mission, brother." 

Andre's jaw clenched, but he stepped back again. 

"We've come this far already," Hugh murmured to Andre. 

Rumplestiltskin looked amused. "Are you here to make a deal? Or to save your pwecious pwincess from the evil clutches of the Dark one?" 

Belle bit back a sarcastic comment. She could see that the Dark One wanted to have his little show, and since everyone else was already watching raptly, it would be rude to heckle him. She wasn't sure it was fair to the clerics to draft them unwittingly into the evening's entertainment, but then, this was the Dark One's home and they had voluntarily walked into it with less than pure intentions. 

Andre shook his head. "It's too late... I know not how you did it, but it's clear you have your claws in the girl already. She is complicit in her own corruption." 

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes and pretended to be hurt. "Oh!" 

Andre looked even more outraged. "He mocks us at every turn. How can we parley with such a demon?" 

"The archbishop needs us," Hugh reminded his comrade. "Is it not said that the lesser sin may be forgiven in pursuit of the greater good?" 

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "Now we're talking..." 

Andre scowled. "Demon, in the name of the gods, release his grace, the Archbishop of Avonlea, from your foul curse!" 

"Oh, but haven't you heard?" Rumplestiltskin smirked, drawing out the pause before he answered himself, "I don't serve the gods, any more than they have ever served me." 

"Blasphemy!" snarled Andre. 

"No, no, no. No one serves anyone," Rumplestiltskin explained with exaggerated patience. "You see, I make _deals_." 

Andre ground his teeth audibly. "Very well. We will pay the price, in return for breaking the curse on the archbishop." 

"Hmm, dear old Octavius has had quite the nap, hasn't he?" Rumplestiltskin paced dramatically, drawing out the suspense. Just when the clerics looked like they were about to burst, he nodded. "Very well. I'll do it, in return for... your scourges." 

Andre gasped. "They are blessed by the goddess. Your touch would defile them!" 

But Hugh was already uncoiling his scourge from where he had it tied around his waist. "Brother, it is selfishness to preserve your well of purity while a sea of darkness floods the plain." 

Seeing his fellow cleric hand his sacred scourge over to the Dark One, Andre had little choice but to follow suit. "Very well." 

"Then the deal... is struck!" Rumplestiltskin toyed with the Hugh's scourge, flicking the lash through the air. It vanished in a crack of magic. Then he took the scourge from Andre, cackling maliciously. He caressed the handle, then let the leather thongs slide through his fingers. 

Belle watched, mesmerized. The whip gleamed oddly, but it wasn't the Dark One's magic. _It shines..._

The Dark One's head jerked up, his eyes wide as he sent her a startled look. _It does indeed. These scourges are soaked in blood, pain, and faith._

The explanation made her skin crawl, but she understood how common objects could become imbued with potent magic through association. It was a testament to the flagellants' devotion that their instruments of self-torture were worth the Dark One's interest. She had simply never been able to _see_ it before. 

Then her train of thought was derailed by an outcry from Andre. 

"What devil's spew is this?" 

Rumplestiltskin replied sharply, "A language not fit for your clumsy tongue." 

"What are you...?" Belle looked around in bewilderment, seeing the same confusion mirrored on the faces around her. Even Colette looked troubled. Then she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth as the realization caught up to her that for a moment, all her thoughts had slipped sideways into a language she didn't remember learning. 

_It's all right._ Rumplestiltskin had closed the distance between them, his eyes meeting hers, a slight smile on his lips. He patted her shoulder gently. _A wee bit of linguistic resonance from spending too much time in the company of Other Me, no doubt. I'm fascinated to know what happened. I hope you'll share the story with me someday._ Before Belle could formulate a response, he had whirled away again, stopping in front of the clerics. "If you insult my darling bride again, the curse on Octavius will be broken... by his death!" 

Andre and Hugh blanched. They retreated a step and had the sense to keep their thoughts to themselves. 

Rumplestiltskin giggled. "That's more like it." He coiled the scourge and pressed it between his hands. It glowed purple, then disintegrated into a fall of dust, which he expertly caught in a glass vial which already contained a murky red liquid. He closed the top with a cork stopper, then swished the mixture around gently until the dust dissolved and the liquid cleared into a deep ruby red. He proffered the vial to the clerics. 

Andre snatched it out of the Dark One's hand and scowled at the potion. "He'll wake up if he drinks this?" 

"That's the deal, and I never break my deals," said Rumplestiltskin. Then he waved a hand, sending the clerics away in a billow of smoke. After the smoke cleared, he clapped his hands, bowed, and grinned like a maniac. "All part of the service!" 

Belle half expected applause. She glanced at her family, who mostly looked dazed, but it was the sight of Maurice, whose blank eyes looked at no one at all, that jolted her to ask Rumplestiltskin, "Can you wake my father, too?" 

Rumplestiltskin's manic expression settled into something more wary as he turned to face her. His voice, when he finally answered, was calmer and not as high pitched, which made it even more disturbing when he said, "Can you whip yourself bloody like those two and pay for the magic with the scars on your back?" 

"What?" Belle stared at the Dark One in disbelief. "Are you serious?" 

"A curse should be taken seriously, don't you think?" 

Colette suddenly pulled Belle back. "No! He is my husband. I will do it." 

Rumplestiltskin eyed Colette speculatively. Before he could speak, the Archon, who had been silent throughout, stepped forward from behind the throne. 

"It is your trial, Rumplestiltskin." Her voice filled the great hall, compelling even the Dark One to listen. "The price is yours to pay." 

The silence that followed rang with the force of her command. 

Caught, Rumplestiltskin looked from the Archon to Belle and her mother, and then at the rest of his visitors. He scuffed his feet noisily against the floor. Then his lips twitched in a nervous smile. "Well, that's me told, isn't it?" He gestured at the Archon. "The High Archon of Schlaraffenland, ladies and gentlemen, creatures of light and darkness, and... let's just say 'everyone,' shall we?" 

Three trials for her, three for him. Belle had wondered who would set them for him, and now she had her answer. 

Rumplestiltskin sighed at the continued silence. "Go on, bring the oaf over here." He waved at the throne and rolled his eyes. "I suppose this is the only chair big enough to seat him." 

Belle tried not to laugh at the expression on her family's faces as they brought Maurice over. 

Rumplestiltskin waited until Maurice was settled, then brushed his fingers over the man's face. Maurice closed his eyes, as if he had simply dozed off. Rumplestiltskin fidgeted, his fingers betraying the anxiety he hid from his face. 

Seeing that, Belle stepped closer to him, tapped him on the arm. "Thank you." 

He looked at her with startled eyes. "Ah." He cleared his throat. "Thank me if I succeed." 

Belle nodded. "Of course you will." Then she smiled. "But I wish you luck, anyway!" 

Rumplestiltskin stared at her in wonder. But he didn't answer, instead stepping into Maurice's shadow, out of the world and into— 

"He's gone into the curse," said Lumiere, slipping for a moment back into his role as Belle's teacher. "A nightmare drawn from the darkest shadows." 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy "Skin Deep" day? Heh... maybe not the best chapter to post for the occasion, but that's how my posting schedule worked out! Warning for violence and implied rape.

* * *

He didn't want to wake the man. People called Rumplestiltskin a monster, but he had always done his best to protect his son. He couldn't forgive Maurice, couldn't understand how Belle and her mother could do it. That was why he had demanded such an outrageous price from them, hoping they would reconsider, but then the bloody High Archon had stepped in. 

Well, it had caused Belle to smile at him, at _Rumplestiltskin_ , and for a moment he had felt almost heroic, so he supposed he should be grateful. 

What _had_ happened in Belle's third trial? How could she look at him like that, as if she gave him her glances freely and without revulsion? His other self had threatened to kill her, and yet she was alive and he was gone, that darker echo of himself. She was too forgiving by far. 

Rumplestiltskin sank into the shadows, finding the thread into the prison where Maurice's soul was trapped, a nightmare of ambiguous reality. Rumplestiltskin didn't have the reality-crossing power that his alternate self had displayed, but if he dug deeply enough into the darkness, he could summon a vision compelling enough to convince a lost soul of its truth. To free Maurice, he would have to start at the point where the nightmare began and follow him to the end, then drag him out. 

The shadows solidified around him as he concentrated. They gained color and life. Light oozed through the cracks in the walls of the world, just enough to illuminate a single soul. Rumplestiltskin found him in a facsimile of the Church of Olympus in the capital of Avonlea, the one that the archbishop had fortified against dark magic. It didn't stop the Dark One now any more than it had before, this time because he was only here as a ghost who wasn't truly part of this world. 

He floated inside and into a scene of a ceremony interrupted by brutal conflict. On one side — himself! Ranged against the Dark One were the archbishop and his followers, wielding sacred blades and blessed chains. One of them had his knee on Lumiere's neck, choking him with a collar. The collar was woven from leather lashes from a flagellant's scourge, coated with fairy dust, all designed to neutralize the Timer's magic. The griffon, Otulissa, lay lifeless on the floor in front of the altar. The smell of blood and smoke and incense filled the air. 

In the far corner, Maurice and Gaston held between them a petite prisoner in an ornate white dress, face hidden under a veil. 

"Stop!" The archbishop pounded the foot of his long staff onto the floor, the bronze incense burner swinging violently from the top where it was attached by a chain. The incense was infused with spells against the Dark One, and the Rumplestiltskin native to this reality was weakened by it, swaying slightly as he summoned another fireball to his hand. "Cease your sorcery or your demon dies now." 

The prisoner in the dress surged forward, wrenching futilely at her captors. The veil was knocked askew, revealing the face underneath. Belle! She screamed out a despairing, "No! Don't! Lumiere!" 

Rumplestiltskin clenched his fists, but was even more helpless than either of the captives in the room. He was no more than a ghostly shadow who had no substance in this world. He could only watch himself as he met Lumiere's eyes, watch the fire go out. 

"Kill him and I'm killing all of you," the other Rumplestiltskin promised. "Release Lumiere and perhaps I'll let you live." 

"The demon's life may be spared, but not cheaply," said the archbishop. "You must forfeit your claim upon this daughter of Avonlea. You will not defile her with your vile touch!" 

The other Rumplestiltskin hissed, "You ask much. She is promised to me. We had a deal." 

"No! Please. Don't let them kill Lumiere!" Belle pleaded, her voice choked with tears. Rumplestiltskin's heart twisted in pain at the sight, even knowing that this was not his reality and there was nothing he could do for her. 

The other Rumplestiltskin ignored her. "No one breaks deals with me." 

"Then the demon dies..." The archbishop gestured with the tip of his staff at his subordinate. 

The collar glowed. Lumiere squealed in agony, rendered wordless and powerless by holy miracles. Then the collar tightened, and even that thin, gasping sound was cut off. 

"Wait!" The other Rumplestiltskin broke at the last moment. He kept his face impassive, but everyone knew that he had lost. All that was left was to negotiate his surrender — Lumiere in exchange for his claim on Belle. 

"Neither you nor any of your minions nor any demons of the Wood will ever set foot or wing in Avonlea again." The archbishop dictated his terms with a triumphant smile. "You and yours will take no revenge. Swear this on your name with all the gods and the fates as your witness." 

"Agreed," the other replied in a low voice. "I, Rumplestiltskin, so swear it. _We_ will take no revenge. But a broken deal carries its own price. Are you willing to pay?" 

The archbishop flushed. "Your threats are meaningless! We have the favor of the gods." 

"We shall see," snarled the other, and the Rumplestiltskin who watched knew that most of that was a bluff. He could do nothing except gather up Lumiere, who had been choked unconscious by then, and transport both of them away from Avonlea — never to return, by the terms of their new deal. He had given his word, swearing on his name. 

The ghostly Rumplestiltskin remained. It was not himself he needed to follow, but Maurice. Maurice, who was all smiles and congratulatory babble now that the hated Dark One had been banished. Maurice, who was ready to hand his daughter over to the monster who had... who must have raped her at least once already in this nightmare. Rumplestiltskin's stomach lurched at the realization. His counterpart had failed completely to protect her. 

_You're just full of broken promises, you pathetic worm,_ whispered the darkness crawling inside his head. 

_Shut up!_ he retorted. This wasn't what had happened. The real Belle was safe. 

_It's only a matter of time,_ the darkness taunted. 

Rumplestiltskin ground his ghostly teeth and watched as the mess was cleared up for the resumption of the ceremony. The overturned bowls on the altar were replaced with three new ones, with sacrifices carved from the griffon's carcass, the clerics ignoring the bride's distress at the desecration. Fresh offerings of meat, fat, and feathers dipped in blood were laid out on the blessed cloth covering the altar. New candles were lit, more incense burnt. 

He could hardly bear to watch this obscenity of a wedding, but he had little choice. He couldn't fail the older Belle who was waiting in his castle for him to save her father from himself. This was Maurice's wish as much as it was the Dark One's, shadow magic turning his own hopes into a punishment. That boded ill for what lay ahead, thought Rumplestiltskin. He couldn't help but hope that it would improve for this Belle, real or not. 

No. 

No, it wouldn't. Rumplestiltskin followed, uselessly enraged, as Maurice handed Belle over to Gaston's custody. 

"She'll stay with me now, won't you, darling?" Gaston grinned lecherously at his new bride. "We'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on." 

Then they were gone, to what bridal suite Rumplestiltskin didn't want to think about. He followed Maurice back to his quarters in the royal castle, where he presented his daughter's enforced marriage as a fait accompli to Lady Colette. Colette didn't take the news well, but she had no power to change anything. 

Rumplestiltskin was consoled by the archbishop's death a few days later, apparently of a heart ailment. So much for his bid to acquire even more power through Belle. Ha. Magic always had its due. The Dark One's deals were written in more than mortal words — they were marked by the fates. 

Colette made at least one attempt to smuggle her daughter out of Gaston's house, but she was caught, and thereafter banned from ever visiting again, along with Belle's sister Sylvie. That was followed by another furious row between Maurice and his wife. The next time Maurice went to see Belle, Gaston was more insufferable than ever. 

"She is with child. The start of my dynasty," gloated Gaston, and Maurice, the fool, nodded along, happy to be a grandfather. 

A rumor reached Avonlea that Rumplestiltskin was dead, a new Dark One in his place. A whisper of a name circulated: Snow White. _Queen_ Snow, who had finally taken her father's throne back from her stepmother. 

How the hell had that happened? Maurice didn't know, so Rumplestiltskin didn't know either. He cursed the man's ignorance and lack of curiosity. Maurice was delighted at the news and didn't care to inquire further. 

Belle herself was subdued, worn down by captivity. The hatred in her eyes had dimmed to a seething resentment. But Gaston had isolated her, beaten her down in ways Maurice turned his eyes from — and thus hidden from Rumplestiltskin — but the Dark One knew. The darkness had broken plenty of victims in its time, and it knew just how much fear had been instilled in Belle to keep her so docile. By the way she kept an arm protectively over her abdomen when Gaston brought her father to see her, she had poured all her life into her unborn child. 

She wasn't showing her pregnancy yet, but to the Dark One's eye, her aura was richer, more intense, and tinged with something not quite mortal. He remembered the amulet the late archbishop had given Gaston. _A divine seed._ That seed had now been planted, but the implications were lost with Octavius. 

They would all have to wait and see. 

Came the time of the birth, and Maurice alone of her family was invited to attend, at least as far as the outer chambers, while only the midwife and serving maids attended Belle inside. 

"A son," boasted Gaston as they waited. "The portents have foretold it." 

Maurice slapped his son-in-law heartily on the back. "He'll be a fine, healthy lad, I'm sure. Thanks be to the gods that she won't be birthing the Dark One's get." 

Gaston grinned. "Told you I could save her, old man." 

They flinched when the screaming began, but reassured each other that it was only to be expected from a first birth. 

"Delicate little thing," said Gaston almost fondly. "But they'll take care of her. I hired the best." 

Rumplestiltskin wanted to strangle him. The best? He had hired someone _cheap_. And those screams were _not_ normal. He glared at Maurice, willing the man to just go in and check on his daughter! At least that way Rumplestiltskin would be able to see what was going on, not that he could affect it in any way. 

At last the screaming stopped. 

"Any minute now," said Maurice. 

But the woman who stepped out of the inner chamber to announce the birth was not the midwife. It was Belle. Belle, who should not even be upright so soon, staggered out, covered in blood and carrying a tiny bundle cradled against her chest. 

"Belle!" Gaston's face went blank with shock. "What are you doing? You shouldn't be..." 

Belle stared murderously at her husband, one eye hidden behind a messy fall of blood-splattered hair. She said hoarsely, "That... is the last time... you tell me that..." She took another unsteady step forward. "Husband. Meet... your son." She thrust the bundle towards Gaston. "His name... is Gideon." 

Gaston instinctively caught the bundle and peered down at the contents. 

"What... is that blood?" Maurice frowned in confusion. "Where's the midwife? Shouldn't someone be with you, love?" 

Belle croaked out a laugh. "Do you know... what the name... Gideon... means?" 

"What does... what does that have to do with anything?" 

That was when Gaston shrieked, an animal's last terrified cry in the face of a predator. He fell to the ground, feebly trying to pry off the creature that had attached itself to his face. Even as Gaston weakened, the creature seemed to unfold, its aura blazing white to the Dark One's sight. It straightened, solidifying into a tall, human figure with the face of a handsome youth of an age with the one fallen at his feet. 

_He is my father. All that he is, I will take..._ The thought resonated through the ether, to anyone able to sense magic. 

Belle stopped laughing. She looked at the youth, and concluded quietly, "It means... 'hewer'. Or perhaps... 'feller'... one who cuts down his enemies. Or his... mother's enemies." 

The youth turned a terrifying smile on the dying Gaston. "Thank you, Father. Don't worry. I'll make you proud. A pity you won't be here to see it..." 

Rumplestiltskin gaped in horror. So this was what happened when a god forced its way into existence through an unwilling mother. 

A god full of fear and hatred learned in the womb. 

A child of magic absorbed its mother's spiritual and mental state through the blood along with oxygen, nutrients, and more mundane influences. A divine child even more so. Belle in this reality had no magic of her own and no one else to help her to shield her son, and so he was forced into an intimate knowledge of darkness that destroyed his innocence long before he was born. 

Even now, they were bound, mother and son. The life force Gideon had drained from his father, he shared with Belle, healing her despite herself. She was walking as easily now as a woman who hadn't just given birth minutes before. 

Maurice was shocked into complete incomprehension. He had the look of a man hoping to wake up any minute from the nightmare. Something that wouldn't happen for another five years, thought Rumplestiltskin. This was only the beginning. 

Gideon gave his father a brutal kick in the ribs. "Hmm. Guess he's gone the way of all flesh." He turned to Maurice with a cocky tilt of his head. "Well, well, well, so you're my grandfather." 

"One of them," said Belle. "Technically speaking. Though Gaston's parents... are dead." Her eyes followed her son, as if she was afraid to look away, as if she was afraid of what she would see around him. "Gideon..." 

Rumplestiltskin shuddered. He had seen a look like that before. Where? When? 

"Oh, he won't _die_ ," sneered Gideon. "I think we can still make use of him. Besides, he deserves to see the glorious future he so lovingly helped bring into being." 

"But my mother," Belle pleaded. "My mother." 

Maurice roused at last from his stupor. "Colette? No! Don't you dare—" 

Gideon waved a hand, transporting all three of them back to the royal castle, straight into Lady Colette's chambers, where they were greeted with cries of shock. "What a racket!" Gideon waved his hand again, and Colette's two ladies in waiting gasped, choked, and collapsed. "Hello, Grandmother." 

Colette's eyes darted to Belle in shock. "Belle? What is this?" Her voice trembled only a little as she spoke, even as her fingers groped blindly for the dagger-like letter opener on her desk. 

Belle tore her gaze away from Gideon just long enough to mumble to Colette, "I'm sorry." 

Gideon chuckled. "I won't drag it out. As you so conveniently already have a suitable sharp object in your hand, let's go with that." He flicked his fingers at Colette. Lines of magic wrapped themselves around her hand and _yanked_. 

Colette stabbed herself in the throat. Her eyes turned to her daughter in disbelief, gurgling inarticulately before she, too, collapsed. 

Belle's face was frozen, bloodless, as she watched her son murder her mother. And as Rumplestiltskin watched Belle, he remembered. _Bae_ had looked like that, the day his father had become the Dark One. 

"Colette!" Maurice broke free of his own paralysis to drop to his knees at his wife's side, cradling her body in his lap. "Oh gods, Colette." 

"It was the only way," said Belle tonelessly, her eyes on her son again. "The only way to spare her." 

Rumplestiltskin's heart sank, knowing what must be in store for this Belle in the days ahead. As for her father... 

Maurice roared in denial. Leaving his wife for dead on the floor, he leaped to his feet and grabbed for the largest heavy object to hand — a metal candelabra — and swung it at Gideon's head. 

It bounced harmlessly off an invisible barrier, throwing Maurice off balance. Gideon swiveled neatly and caught his grandfather's wrist, forcing him to drop the candelabra. "None of that, now." He pressed the index finger of his other hand into Maurice's forehead. "Blood of my blood. Thy will be mine." Skin and flesh sizzled. When Gideon withdrew his hand, the mark of his finger remained imprinted on Maurice's skin like a fresh brand. 

All the anger drained out of Maurice, leaving him empty-eyed and docile. 

"That's better." Gideon smiled. "A good beginning, wouldn't you say, Mother?" 

"Gideon, please..." 

Gideon clapped his hands. "Yes, yes, you're right. So many relatives, so little time." With a flick of his wrist, a family tree unscrolled before him. He spent a few minutes studying the lists of names. 

For the rest of the week, Rumplestiltskin followed Maurice and Belle as they followed Gideon as he hunted down every last legitimate member of the royal family, marking them with his blood brand and turning them into his thralls. He forced the old king to abdicate in Gideon's favor, giving him control of all Avonlea. 

"These fools believe in blood right," he said to his mother. 

Belle looked at him sadly. "They say they do, but in their hearts they know better." 

"It matters not. It gives me a foot in the door, as the mortals say." Gideon smiled. "Once I am king, they will believe, both on their lips and in their hearts. In time, I will teach them to worship me as their god." 

It was no empty boast. 

Remy had become archbishop after the death of Octavius. He proved to have a flair for inspiring the crowds, lashing them into a frenzy of devotion. As long as he was useful to Gideon, he was permitted to fleece the faithful and enjoy a life of luxury. As long as his sermons exhorted the virtues of submission, as long as the people listened to him. 

Through it all, Gideon forced Maurice to stand at his side, a witness to the monster he had helped create. Each month, he took a life to fuel his power. It was always someone young and healthy and beautiful, someone supplied by Maurice. The rest of the kingdom fell at his feet, grateful to be spared, grateful for Gideon's 'protection.' No one refused him anything, each more eager than the next to be of service to their new god. They were the luckiest kingdom in the Enchanted Forest, according to the clerics. 

But at the end of the year, it was Belle who was sacrificed. Gideon had wrested the Dark Curse from the Mistress of All Evil, the dragon no match for his divine powers. Gideon had no interest in going to the Land Without Magic, only in the absolute control the curse gave him to shape the world to his whim. 

"I love you, Mother. More than any other soul in this or any other realm," he said when he ripped the heart from her chest. "And I know you love me, which is why you understand why I have to do this." 

It wasn't forgiveness that Rumplestiltskin read in her eyes at the end. A year of unrelenting horror had hammered any softness from her. All she had left was relief. 

Relief that she would not live to suffer in Gideon's world under the Dark Curse. Maurice was not so lucky. 

_You wanted to torture him. Well done!_ cackled the darkness. _A bit surprising that a woman so full of light would birth such a fiend, eh? One wonders how her child with YOU would turn out._

Rumplestiltskin dismissed the thought, knowing how unlikely it was for him to ever father a child again. 

He let the years skim by, following Maurice through the nightmare. At the end of it, he found him locked behind a mask of bone. Under the curse, Gideon had made Maurice into his Grim Reaper, the cloaked figure with the skull's face who wielded an enchanted scythe. The fear and dread provoked by his presence, he harvested for his god, but every bit of it went through him, first — and through Rumplestiltskin as he shadowed Maurice. But he endured it as he had every other fear he had suffered in his long life. After four accelerated years, he was almost as much of a quivering wreck as Maurice. 

_Behold the wine bowl of the gods._ The darkness in Rumplestiltskin appreciated the spellcraft of the enchantment on the bone mask. Maurice was a vessel stained by its contents, suffering the same horrors he was forced to inflict, thus intensifying the flavor for his master. _Pull yourself together. It's just a spell. A tasty one, though. I like it._

"I'll have to remember it, then," Rumplestiltskin said through gritted teeth, resenting the enjoyment the darkness took in his weakness. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the spell-induced horrors. "This has been quite the educational opportunity!" 

Maurice stared back at him dully through the eye holes. He didn't speak, but Rumplestiltskin could tell that he could see him, which meant that they existed in the same moment. Rumplestiltskin had finally caught up to Maurice's 'now'. 

"Just a quip, dearie!" Rumplestiltskin grabbed the mask and wrenched it free with a disentanglement spell. Maurice's face underneath was chalk pale and sweaty, twisting with pain. "Oh yes, this may sting a bit." 

Maurice groaned, listing heavily to one side, his grip loosening on the scythe. Rumplestiltskin caught the man, letting the scythe clatter to the ground. In this world, Maurice lived at the top of a stone tower, alone except for a servant who had a room lower down, so there was no one to witness the Dark One's visit, even if they were able to. It was only Maurice, half in one world and half in the other, who was real enough to notice the intruder. 

"Wake up, Maurice." Rumplestiltskin could physically drag the man back with him, given the Dark One's unnatural strength, but he much preferred to have him walk back under his own power. "Maurice!" 

"Huh?" Bleary eyes blinked back at him. 

"Time to go. You don't want to miss your daughter's wedding, do you?" Rumplestiltskin grinned nastily. "The _real_ one." 

"My daughter is dead." 

Rumplestiltskin twisted his fist into the front of Maurice's shirt and slammed him into a wall. "Wake up! It's not real." 

"No, no, what are you, what is this?" mumbled Maurice. 

Rumplestiltskin let go. He hissed in exasperation, "She wants you back, Maurice. Who knows why, but she does, you useless lump. Get moving." 

Maurice's eyes widened. "Dark One!" 

"Finally! Yes." 

"But you're dead..." 

Rumplestiltskin barely refrained from slapping him. "It's. Not. Real. You're under a curse." 

" _Your_ curse." Enlightment dawned at last. The nightmare reality loosened its grip as Rumplestiltskin pulled him free, inch by inch. 

"Yes. But I'm calling it off. Come along, Maurice." He threaded a summoning through the name, but the man's hostility worked against it. "We don't have forever. Well, _you_ don't." 

"I'm not going anywhere with you." 

"Then you'll have to stay here." Rumplestiltskin moved as if to force the bone mask back over Maurice's face. 

"No!" Maurice cowered at the sight, fending it off with a trembling arm. "No..." 

"What other choice do you have, dearie?" 

Maurice slumped to the ground, back against the wall. His eyes closed and he bowed his head. "Just kill me. Let me die." 

"Hmm." Rumplestiltskin pretended to consider it. Then he shook his head. "No. No, your daughter wouldn't like it." 

"Daughter," mumbled Maurice. "Is it true? Is she...?" 

"Belle is alive. She wants you back. So does your wife." 

Maurice gasped. "Colette... she lives?" 

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Lady Colette and your daughter lugged your carcass all the way to my land and asked me to lift my curse..." 

"They... did they make a deal with you? No, no, you can't!" Maurice scrambled upright, using the wall for support. "What price did you demand, you beast?" 

Rumplestiltskin gave him an evil smile. "If you want to know that, you'll have to follow me and ask them for yourself." 

At last, _at last_ , he coaxed Maurice into motion. It was a long way to go, but faster now that Rumplestiltskin had already traversed it on the way in. 


	19. Chapter 19

So it wasn't as easy as waving a hand and wishing the curse away. Belle hadn't expected that, but it took many of the others by surprise. Eventually, the Dark Castle's servitors, animated mannequins in the Dark One's livery, took the visitors to the guest quarters. Only Belle, Colette, Sylvie, Cogsworth, and Lumiere remained in the great hall to keep an eye on Rumplestiltskin and Maurice. That was enough people for a game of cards while Belle sat by the window with a book from the Dark One's library. Later, beds were brought in and they took shifts sleeping through the night. 

It wasn't until the next morning that Rumplestiltskin succeeded in waking Maurice from the curse. Breakfast had been cleared and the two Timers were discussing a spell to contact the Dark One when the imp himself materialized right behind the throne. 

Rumplestiltskin, looking haggard, leaned against the back of the chair and muttered something in Maurice's ear. Then he straightened, sweeping the room with a weary gaze. "Ah. I'll leave you lot to enjoy your family reunion, shall I?" His eyes seemed to linger on Belle, his expression indecipherable. Then he vanished in a puff of smoke. 

The two Timers looked awkwardly at the group, then at each other, and followed suit. 

Before Belle could wonder about it, Maurice gave out a loud gasp. He jerked bolt upright and his eyes darted around, focusing on the faces of his wife and daughters for what must have been the first time in years. 

"Maurice!" Colette was the first to reach him, clasping her husband's hands between her own. "You're awake!" 

Sylvie was there next with a hug. Belle hesitated, hanging back behind her sister. Of course she was happy to see her father recover himself, but their last meeting had been so acrimonious... 

"You're alive. Oh thank the gods, you're all alive," babbled Maurice. Tears glistened in his eyes. "Oh, my darlings, you're really all alive..." 

Colette and Sylvie reassured him that yes, of course, they were fine, while Belle offered her father a weak smile and wondered just what kind of nightmare he had woken from. 

"Belle!" Maurice struggled to stand up, his face contorted in sudden urgency. With help, he managed to close the three steps between them and clasp her hands. "Belle, you can't marry him..." 

Belle stiffened. Not this again? "Father, it's already been decided." At least, on her side of it, though she knew Rumplestiltskin had two more trials to go, and he had looked strange just now, but she wasn't going to tell her father about that. As far as she was concerned— "You just woke up, you're confused..." 

"Nonsense, my girl," barked Maurice. He looked at his wife. "How long have I been away? Never mind, we still have time to call it off." 

"Maurice, dear, why don't you sit down?" Colette soothed him, trying to guide him back to the chair. "We can see if they'll bring us some tea. That will calm your nerves." 

"I'm perfectly fine," he insisted, but sat down heavily, the sheen of effort on his forehead betraying his weakness. "We can't let her bind herself to a demon... we just can't. You have no idea, but I've seen, oh, I've seen..." 

Belle frowned. "Is this still about Gaston? I told you, I'll never marry him!" 

If anything, Maurice turned even paler. "No, no, you were right about him, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. No, you can't marry _anyone_. The Dark One can't take insult if it's because you become a nun. They have to make a vow of chastity, everyone knows that. If it's true faith, that overrides a deal with a demon..." 

"Father, I'm not going to become a nun," Belle explained as patiently as she could. "And that's just a rumor about true faith. It's just that sometimes — well, it's very rare, but Lumiere told me of a few cases — you can convince the Dark One to renegotiate a deal." 

"Yes! Yes, we have to renegotiate." Maurice leaned forward eagerly, grasping at the possibility. 

Belle sighed. She glanced at her mother and sister, who looked equally baffled. "Maybe we can discuss it later." That bought them a temporary peace, at least long enough to coax some food into him. While he was distracted, Belle slipped out of the great hall and went to look for the Dark One. They needed to know what had happened to Maurice. Was he really freed from the curse? Had it driven him mad somehow? 

But Rumplestiltskin was nowhere to be seen. Belle tried summoning him by name. She tried a simple tracking spell using her crystal as a focus. She tried the library (guided by one of the magical servitors) and found Lumiere, Cogsworth, and the High Archon already there. 

"Belle." Lumiere looked surprised to see her. "You are not with your family?" 

"Obviously not." Belle peered at the gathering. "You're having a secret meeting?" 

"It is not a 'secret'," said Cogsworth. "We are concerned. Rumplestiltskin is neglecting his duties as host." 

"He is hiding from us," grumbled Lumiere. "As he does. Perhaps he is troubled by something he is seeing in that curse." 

"That is the nature of the three trials," said the High Archon. "The second more so than the first, and the third the most harrowing of all. He is the Dark One and three centuries old. It cannot be, as the saying goes, a walk in the park, or we dishonor ourselves." 

"So, what's the second one?" Belle asked, not liking the sound of that. Would Rumplestiltskin be put in real danger? She had been set against an ogre for her trial, but Lew hadn't wanted to hurt her. Nor had the other, older Rumplestiltskin, despite his threats. 

"You will find out. All in good time, and not before." 

Belle sighed. "Well, if that's how it is, that's how it is. Are there any books here about post-curse recovery?" 

"You are worried for your father?" Lumiere was already moving towards one of the shelves. "I believe there was something of relevance here..." 

"Yes, he's acting strange. He doesn't want me to get married now, not to anyone. Said I should become a nun!" Belle forced a laugh, but she knew it was no joking matter. If even the Dark One had been shaken by something in his curse, what effect had it had on her father, a mere mortal? 

There was nothing about the specific curse Rumplestiltskin had used, as it was one of his own invention and he hadn't left any notes, but Lumiere found her two volumes that contained some anecdotes and theories about similar curses. 

* * *

The next day, Belle took her father for a gentle stroll on the path that wound around the outside edge of the castle grounds. Due to the diligent care of Colette and the servants under her command, Maurice was in good physical condition, but he was still adjusting to moving around under his own power again. When he said he wanted to speak to her in private, Belle was quick to agree, thinking that he would finally reveal what he had seen while trapped in the curse. 

"Terrible, terrible things." Maurice refused to say much more than that about what he had experienced. "Oh, my girl, terrible things. I saw... I saw..." He shook his head and trailed off into an incoherent mumble. He reiterated his proposal that Belle should renounce the world and become a nun. 

"But I have no calling for the church. How could I possibly become a nun?" It was preposterous. After enduring weeks of the clerics chastising her for her heresy and willful ways, Belle was less inclined to religion than ever. 

"Faith will come in time, I'm sure." Maurice entreated her with teary eyes, "Please, sweetheart, it's for the best. It's the only way to keep you safe, and it's not such a bad life." 

"Father, I know you mean well, but it's my life." Belle wasn't planning to change it for some nightmare her father had suffered. "Whatever you saw, it was a _curse_. It was meant to be terrible." 

Maurice's face darkened. "Exactly! And you want to marry a demon who would use such a terrible curse? On your own father?" 

"I'm not saying it was the right thing to do, but... setting Gaston on me wasn't the right thing, either!" Belle felt guilty saying such things to her father, but she wanted him to understand. To her horror, Maurice recoiled at her words, his face ashen and his limbs trembling. "Father!" 

Maurice shook her off when she offered him a shoulder and staggered over to lean against a tree trunk. "Oh, Belle." 

"You should sit down." Belle looked up the path. "Come on, there's a bench up there, overlooking the cliff." This time, Maurice allowed her to guide him by the arm to the wooden bench on the ridge, where the trees had been cleared back to reveal a spectacular view to the west. "Do you think the Dark One comes here to watch the sun set?" 

"You can't marry him, Belle." Maurice dabbed at his face with a handkerchief. "You just can't." 

"But why? He's not as terrible as you think. There's darkness, yes, but he has a good heart. I've seen it." 

"Oh no, no, no, but if you had seen what I saw," mumbled Maurice. "Good heart? Then why doesn't he have the decency to come out of whatever godsforsaken hole he's crawled off to and show himself?" 

"Maybe he's shy?" Belle smiled wryly, wishing she knew how to answer her father. "Or the 'terrible things' you keep talking about have frightened him away? Maybe he changed his mind about marrying me. That'll make you happy." 

"Pray it is so!" said Maurice in utter seriousness. 

Belle frowned at him. "But I won't become a nun, whether or not he marries me." 

"Can't say as I blame you!" Rumplestiltskin's unsettlingly high-pitched voice came out of nowhere, as did he, his head leaning forward between them and his hands dropping to rest on the back of the bench. "I wouldn't want to become a nun, either." 

Belle squeaked and leaped out of the bench, stumbling perilously close to the edge of the cliff before scuttling back towards safer ground. "Where have you been all this time? Popping up just to scare us to death?" 

Rumplestiltskin tsked. "Do you make a habit of lurching drunkenly about near sudden drops?" 

"Well, that's where the best scenery is," retorted Belle. "And you didn't answer my question." 

Maurice stood up, far more ponderously than his daughter, and scowled at Rumplestiltskin. "I'm not having it. She's not marrying anyone, especially not a monster like you." 

Rumplestiltskin straightened and stepped back, wiping his hands off on himself. His eyes turned serious as he regarded Maurice. "I was there, too. Monster I may be, but I promise you, I will never let _that_ happen. It was a nightmare, nothing more." 

Maurice moved to take hold of Belle's arm, pulling her back and shielding her behind him. "No, no, it was real enough. I know it was." 

Belle freed her arm from her father's grasp. "What was real? What happened in there?" 

Rumplestiltskin kept his eyes on Maurice. "Understand this. It will _never_ become real, because I will not allow it." 

"Don't you look at me like that. It's your fault. If you hadn't made that deal, I wouldn't have..." Maurice stopped abruptly. 

"Wouldn't _what?_ " the Dark One snarled. His right hand was thrust towards Maurice, an angry concentration of dark magic straining at the leash. 

"Please, don't hurt him," Belle stepped forward between them. "If you have something to say, we can talk. There's no need for, for violence, or curses, or... magic." 

Rumplestiltskin glanced at Belle, his eyes softening. Then he sighed and dropped his hand and let the magic dissipate. "Your father thinks that... harm... will come to you from our union. Not to mention the rest of the world." 

Belle frowned. "Why?" 

"It's nothing. I would never... I intend no harm to you. Everything I do, it's..." Rumplestiltskin's words sank lower and lower until they ceased to be spoken at all. 

It only seemed to enflame Maurice. "You intend to use her for your own perverted desires, to spawn your half-demon monsters!" 

Rumplestiltskin's expression turned cold, becoming the frozen mask of the Dark One once more. "Whatever my intentions towards your daughter, _you_ no longer have a say in it." 

"I am her father!" Maurice reached out to pull Belle away from the Dark One. "And I say you will never have her." 

"Father, please." Belle let him draw her a few steps back, hoping the distance would calm him down. 

For a moment, it seemed he would. Then Rumplestiltskin took a step towards them and Maurice, animated by the strength of desperation, hurled his daughter over the edge of the cliff. "Better dead than bred!" 

Belle screamed, scrabbling blindly for anything to break her fall, but her father had sent her flying into empty air. The ground rose towards her, a sickening jumble of rocks and trees far, far below. 

Then the world _blinked_ with a sickening lurch and she was yanked backwards, suddenly caught by a strong pair of arms. Up and down spun madly for a moment, and then she saw Rumplestiltskin's shocked face. 

It was his magic that had saved her when she had panicked. Would she have summoned her own magic in time? She wasn't sure, and was grateful for the Dark One's quick reflexes. He had snatched her from midair and absorbed the impact of the landing so that she was barely jarred. For a moment they stared at each other, eyes wide and stunned. 

Then he hastily set her down, putting himself between Belle and her father. Shaking uncontrollably, she clung to Rumplestiltskin's arm as if the world was about to drop from under her feet again. Rumplestiltskin raised his other arm to cast another spell. Smoke enveloped Maurice, and when it cleared, he was gone. 

Seeing the murderous expression on Rumplestiltskin's face, Belle cried out in panic, "Don't kill him!" Then the horror of her father's actions belatedly sank in. "The... the curse. He didn't really mean to... it must still be affecting him. Please, you have to help him." 

Rumplestiltskin's face went blank and he tensed under her grip. He glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, then gently led her to the bench. They sat shoulder to shoulder, not quite looking at each other. Finally, he muttered, "I'm sorry." 

"I... I don't understand why he would..." The rest of the sentence stuck in Belle's throat. Why would her own father try to kill her? What had the curse done to him? 

"'It was the only way to spare her,'" Rumplestiltskin said tonelessly, then shook his head. 

"What?" Belle turned to stared at him. He twisted away from her scrutiny, and she saw that beneath his burst of anger, he was as shellshocked at she was. 

"Something someone said in a nightmare," whispered Rumplestiltskin without looking at her. "I sent him back to the castle. Maybe the rest of your family can help him." 

"Oh." She hoped so, too. There was another long silence. Belle found her fingers inching towards Rumplestiltskin's hand, wanting the truth of the curse from him. But the instant she made contact, Rumplestiltskin jumped to his feet, going from subdued to manic in an instant. 

He reversed Belle's grip and tugged at her to stand up. "I have it!" 

Belle resisted. "Have what?" 

"A way to keep you from plunging to your death off the next precipice you happen to be tossed from." Rumplestiltskin giggled. "And a way to enjoy more of those scenic views you're so enamored of." 

Belle let herself be pulled to her feet. "Rumplestiltskin..." 

"It's time you learned to... fly!" He squealed the last word gleefully. "Come along, this way." 

She blanched as she realized which direction he was trying to drag her. She dug in her feet. "No! No, stop it." 

Rumplestiltskin dropped her hand at once and spun back to face her. "Most people would jump at the chance..." 

"That's not funny." Belle squeezed her eyes shut. Her stomach roiled at the memory of the open space stretching out and out and down, and she wanted to crawl back to bed and hide under the reassuring weight of a heavy blanket. "How do you fly, anyway?" 

"With wings, how else?" 

"I don't _have_ wings, in case you haven't noticed." Belle admitted to herself that sometimes she had envied Lumiere and Otulissa their power of flight, but it was no more than a passing thought, not serious. And was this the time for it? Then she realized this must be his way of trying to distract her from the shock of her father _trying to kill her._ She swallowed her objections and allowed herself to be distracted because it was preferable to breaking down and giving in to the sobs that threatened to suffocate her. 

"Oh, but you do." Rumplestiltskin circled around behind her. He traced two lines down her back. She shivered at the light touch, not daring to move. "Do you want me to show you?" 

Belle opened her eyes a crack, but kept her gaze on her own hands, twisting together nervously before her. "Are you talking about shapeshifting?" 

"Mmm. More like an alternate perspective and the physical manifestation of that perspective." He was silent for a beat, then added, "It would take very little for you to make that shift. I can... I can see it, under your skin." 

Belle tried to imagine it. _Wings._ Then she saw in her mind's eye the terrifying expanse and the wind whistling past her and she cried out and dropped, knees pressed into the earth, her heart racing. She focused frantically on the solid ground under her nose. 

Rumplestiltskin crouched beside her, his outstretched hand coming into view. "Let me show you. With wings, the air is only another direction to explore. Once you have control of the journey, you need no longer fear it." 

Belle nodded slowly, accepting the point. And then the hand. She climbed back to her feet, trying not to wobble. "All right. Show me..." 

Rumplestiltskin kept her hand, turning it palm up. With his other hand, he traced the lines of her veins. He began speaking, low, soothing words that she couldn't parse at first. Then they slid into place, and it was the same language she had instinctively tapped into before. _...yourself and your other self, your winged self. A creature with light running through your veins..._

Belle listened, entranced. As he caressed her forearm, she felt as if her blood was burning, light straining to break free of her skin. She was herself, and she was another. Another heart beat under her human heart. Wings waited for her to unfurl them — she could _almost_ feel them through her spine. 

He took a step, and she followed. Then another. His eyes glowed an unearthly amber as the shadows deepened in his face. The air behind him darkened with the barest suggestion of wings. A pulse of magic leaped from his hands into Belle. He let go of her and stepped back. _Fly!_

The wind rose around them, catching Belle and lofting her into the air. She blacked out for half a heartbeat. Then she was abruptly _other._ The wind filled her wings and she was rising above the trees. 

_I'm flying!_ Belle laughed in astonishment, the fear of falling evaporating with her new mastery of the air. She looked for Rumplestiltskin to share her joy with him, and found that he was a tiny speck on the rapidly receding ground. There was clearly magic involved in this kind of flight. 

Well, as long as she was up here, she would see just how high she could go. Was that a cloud? Seeing a chance to fly through a cloud and see what was above it, she took it without hesitation. 

* * *

Rumplestiltskin watched from the ridge, entranced by the beauty of her flight. She was beautiful no matter the form she took, but as a creature of light, she soared in a powerful, elegant arc across the sky — a griffon in shape, blue against blue with an iridescent sheen, wings swirling with green and gold, the pattern shifting with the angle of illumination. 

She had permitted his touch, even sought it out. He had barely dared reciprocate, afraid that his darkness would sully her. He had used words of the dark to summon a creature of light, and she had listened, a thought which filled him with wonder. As much as he had touched her with his darkness, her light had illuminated _him_. A brief flicker of light to warm his soul before she vanished above the clouds. 

Above the clouds, to a realm where he couldn't follow. Where she could be free to decide her own destiny away from earthly obligations — away from parents who would dictate her life and even her death. 

Was that it, then? No wonder she had flown away without a backward look. She was free of them all, in a land of light, and need never return. But hope was a stubborn thing, and he remained on the ridge, watching an empty sky, waiting. 

The minutes stretched on, and his doubts only grew. After an hour, Cogsworth and Lumiere came to check on him. 

"Never mind me. How is Maurice?" Rumplestiltskin had scraped past the trial on a technicality, but he knew in his heart he had failed there. Maurice might be awake now, but was no more willing to acknowledge his daughter's agency than before. On top of that, his sense of reality had been distorted by so many years trapped inside the curse. It wasn't something Rumplestiltskin could fix — magic would only unmoor him further. Rumplestiltskin had _known_ that, but pretended all was well so that Belle and her family could have their re-union — and then Maurice had tried to kill his own daughter. Rumplestiltskin couldn't evade his own guilt in the matter. Belle was well within her rights to leave. 

"Resting quietly, for now," said Cogsworth. "Lady Colette and Sylvie are with him. They wondered what you had done with Belle." 

"She's fine. I, ah, showed her her wings." Rumplestiltskin waved an arm vaguely. "She's flown to the land above the clouds, where they're welcoming her with open arms and giving her the grand tour, no doubt." 

"Should she not be returned by now?" asked Lumiere. 

Rumplestiltskin avoided looking at the two Timers. "She can take as long as she likes. It's been a stressful day. Week. Year... life..." He sighed, knowing most of that was his fault as well. Though this reality was at least better than what she had suffered in Maurice's nightmare world. 

"A pity our griffons are exiled, or we could send them to find her," said Cogsworth. 

"No. She is to be your bride. It is for you to make the journey." The High Archon stepped out of nowhere to join them. Her eyes met Rumplestiltskin's from behind her mask. "This is your second trial. Find her and bring her back, or this union is fated never to be." 

"But she went to the land above the clouds, a realm of _light_. I'm the _Dark One_. It's all in the name, you know," Rumplestiltskin hissed. A difficult trial was one thing, but he had _never_ been able to reach that land — the source of magic beans — in all his centuries. "It's impossible." 

"Nevertheless." The High Archon vanished again. 

Rumplestiltskin stared wildly at Cogsworth and Lumiere. "I've _tried_ before, and I _can't_." _Or this union is fated never to be._ "Does the land oppose this match? They want to free her from the monster?" 

"I think that is not their thought," said Lumiere. "But rather to test the light in your heart." 

"I don't have any!" 

"The rite of the three trials cannot lead to a dead road, or it is not considered valid," said Cogsworth. "There must always be a path to pass each trial, however tortuous or hidden. You must try again." 

Rumplestiltskin ground his teeth. "Easy for you to say." Before they could answer, he waved his hands at them. "Fine, fine! I'll _try_. _Without_ an audience, thanks muchly." 

The two Timers were wise enough to make their exits without any attempt to have the last word. 

Rumplestiltskin sighed and looked up at the sky. Perhaps if he focused not on 'going to the land above the clouds' but on 'finding Belle' it would feel less impossible. He had done it before. He could do it again. The land above the clouds was surely easier to reach than the land without magic. He remembered King George's knight who had climbed up a beanstalk to raid the giants. 

Sir Marek had been no paragon of purity and light. He had been able to cross the threshold between realms simply because... because he had been invited. A foolish giant had taken Marek and his fellows to be friends. He had left his heart open to them and they had been able to scale the beanstalk rather than slipping off to their deaths. 

If Belle was there now. If she wanted him there, if she allowed it... he had a chance. If she could hear him. If she had any standing to invite anyone in. If she welcomed him at all. 

_That's enough 'ifs' to hang yourself,_ taunted the darkness. _You should never have let her go. Next you'll be handing her the knife to kill you with..._

Rumplestiltskin snarled silently at the voice. He had come this far. He had put Belle through three trials already. It would be the act of a coward to give up now. 

_You ARE a coward, always have been._

Ignoring his doubts, he shed his human form and took to the air. The crystal settled inside his heart with a warmth he clung to as he thought of Belle. She was there, somewhere, across a barrier of light. Remembering her light, he borrowed the memory to throw a cloak over his own darkness. For a brief moment, he thought he heard her voice calling his name. With the sound of her voice in his mind, he rose through a cloud and found himself dazzled by a purer light than that which shone on the mortal realms. 

_The land above the clouds!_

Then he saw that he was not alone. He was surrounded by a ring of full-sized griffons. A dozen pairs of gold-rimmed eagle eyes pinned him down with the force of their hostility. Their power pressed all around with light drawn from the realm itself. 

And he was still the Dark One. His own power was diminished to almost nothing in this place, and he was barely able to maintain his own shape without dissolving into a puddle of oozing darkness. 

_Dark One._ One of the griffons took a step forward and faced him directly. _You dare trespass into the land above the clouds?_

Rumplestiltskin forced a reply through his shadow form. _I... I claim... guest right._

_No one here invited you!_ snarled the griffon. 

_Then... how else... am I here?_ Rumplestiltskin projected as much confidence as he could, using words where he had no chance of fighting his way free. He pushed back memories of being similarly helpless on a pirate ship, begging for his wife to be returned. This time it will be different, he told himself. _She invited me. I am... here for her._

The griffons muttered discontentedly to each other, but true words held more weight with griffons than pirates, and Rumplestiltskin hadn't lied. That had to be enough. 

It was truth enough to keep them from summarily throwing him out of their realm. Instead, they kicked the problem upstairs. 

_You will come with us,_ the lead griffon decided at last. _The King will hear your claim and he will decide._

A chance, then. He was in with a chance... as long as the king of the griffons didn't challenge him to a duel. 

* * *

"If the rumors do not deceive me, we have an enemy in common, Captain Jones." Gaston smiled at the pirate over a mug of ale, seeing the vengeful gleam in the man's eyes. The name tattooed on his wrist glowed to Gaston's other sight, and it told him all he needed to know about Killian Jones. "The one you call the Crocodile. The demon otherwise known as the Dark One..." 

"He took my love from me," snarled Jones. 

"He has a habit of doing that," said Gaston darkly. He indicated his missing eye. "And left me with this souvenir." 

Jones dug the tip of his hook into the table. "Then our stories are indeed alike. Are you offering an alliance?" 

"The demon sold his soul for power, for magic. It will be difficult for us to match that power without making sacrifices of our own." Gaston leaned forward and asked in a harsh whisper, "Do you have what it takes, Captain Jones? The price may be steeper than you can afford." 

"I'll pay whatever price is needed to get my revenge," declared the pirate. 

"Would you?" Gaston held his gaze for a long moment, then sat back. "Even if it cost you your ship?" He saw the uncertain flicker, but the pirate nodded slowly. "Your crew?" 

The pirate's eyes narrowed. "Those flea-ridden rats are easily replaced. But can you deliver on your promises? What power do you have to match the Crocodile's?" 

"A blessing from the gods, but not one I can share with just anyone." Gaston drew his dagger and slashed across his right palm. The blood oozed from the cut, the divine magic giving it a hypnotic red glow. He smiled to himself at the pirate's fascinated stare. "An ancient rite to prove trust... will you take my hand?" 

Jones reached out across the table slowly. Before they connected, Gaston sliced the pirate's palm, lightning quick. Then their hands were joined. 

Gaston felt the power of the contact, ignorant though Jones was of its true significance. His blood in the pirate, the pirate's blood offered to him. In the ancient days, this was how priests were consecrated to their gods. Gaston didn't know how he knew, but he didn't doubt his knowledge. Ever since he had nearly died in Lord Girard's library, he was more than a mere mortal. He saw more than he ever had with two eyes. His blood thrummed with power. He remembered things from long before his birth. 

Jones blinked when Gaston released his hand. The cuts were healed perfectly, leaving not even a drop of blood behind to stain the skin. "You have a plan in mind, I take it?" 

"It's simple. You must go back to Neverland and bring back the boy." Gaston saw the puzzled look in the pirate's eyes turn to consternation. "Yes, that one. All these years you had the perfect leverage against the Dark One, yet never used it." 

Jones frowned. "It would be bad form to use a child..." 

So there was something more to the man than revenge. Gaston exerted his will through the blood bond, but Jones resisted. 

"He's Milah's son. Leave him in peace." 

"There's no peace on Neverland. You know that. Bring him to me." Gaston made his voice even more persuasive. "I won't harm him. On the contrary, he will help us of his own free will, once I explain matters to him." 

"I tried! But the lad is stubborn." 

_As are you, Jones,_ thought Gaston, gritting his teeth. Everyone touched by the Dark One was so irritatingly contrary. Once he got Belle back, he would have to break her of that willfulness. She had dared refuse him, had cost him his place in Avonlea. For that humiliation, she would pay. As for Jones, Gaston needed him, for now. "You took his mother from him, but he has no quarrel with _me_. He will listen." 

"Aye, you have a point." 

"Go. But leave Mr. Smee." Gaston had drawn the memories from the captain's mind, and found a history and a name that suited his purposes. "I have other uses for him." 

Jones obeyed, now caught too deeply in Gaston's spell to question him. 

Smee wasn't happy to follow his captain's new associate up to a 'private meeting'. He lingered at the threshold of Gaston's room, fidgeting with his red cap. "Now look, let's not get the wrong idea here..." 

Gaston chuckled. "What do you take me for? I hear you've been with Captain Jones for a very long time." 

Smee gulped and bobbed his head. "Aye, a long time." 

"But right before that, you made a deal with the Dark One." Gaston took a step closer, looming over the shorter man, close enough to smell the sweat glistening on his face. "A deal which you broke." 

"It wasn't my fault!" Smee started to back away, but Gaston seized his collar and Smee froze. "They took me prisoner and stole..." 

"Your excuses are irrelevant." The broken deal gave Smee certain properties according to the laws of magic. Not that Gaston bothered to explain, any more than he explained anything to the animals he used to hunt. "Yet it seems you've done well by yourself despite your loss. Consider yourself lucky." 

"L-lucky?" Smee's hand crept towards the dagger at his belt. 

Gaston stopped him by plunging his own fingers into Smee's chest and ripping out his heart. He grinned wolfishly. "Perhaps it will make the pain easier to bear..." 


	20. Chapter 20

Belle soared above a sea of clouds. The air was cold and the sun bright. The light drew her onward, and she imagined that she followed its path, twisting in a direction that was neither up nor down nor any of the cardinal direction, but orthogonal to everything she had known before. A sweet scented breeze whispered to her from the strange direction. On an impulse, Belle chased it deeper into whatever unknown realm it originated from. 

The clouds shifted, became denser, weaving a new land beneath her. A flush of brown and green seeped into the rolling plains. She flew over a vast dry grassland, punctuated by scrubby trees, water holes, and herds of bison and antelope. 

_The land above the clouds,_ thought Belle in amazement. _This must be the land above the clouds!_

She remembered the stories Otulissa had told her. This was the realm of griffons and giants. Griffons? Was that what _she_ was now? Belle descended to one of the great muddy pools to look at her own reflection. The animals by the water scattered at her approach, making her feel suddenly self-conscious. She gazed into the water, and as the ripples stilled, saw the predator they had seen. A griffon, but glowing a shimmering blue, unlike any eagle or lion she had ever seen. She felt that she could dissolve into shapeless light at any moment if she let herself go. 

It was a very strange feeling. 

She wasn't given much time to explore it. Glimpsing motion in the reflections, Belle looked up to see specks in the sky rapidly approaching. Having nowhere to run or hide, Belle straightened herself, drawing on her magic for a protection spell. The specks resolved themselves into griffons — a dozen of them, all full-size — of which half circled above her and half landed around her. 

_Sister!_ The one who dropped to the ground in front of her greeted her warmly. _Be welcome to the land above the clouds._

_I, uh, thank you,_ said Belle awkwardly, not even sure if the words would come out right when she was in this form. 

_We have so few visitors. The King will want to meet you,_ said the griffon. 

_Oh, but surely he has matters of more importance to tend to,_ Belle demurred politely. She remembered the queen of the Wood Beyond, and wondered if the king of the griffons was anything like that. 

_A stranger blessed with such light? You are surely one of our lost kindred. The King would be honored by your attendance at his court._

_Well, if that's how it is, the honor is mine._ Belle knew when she was outnumbered, and besides, she was curious about their king. If she could wrangle a 'boon' out of him to match Nevethe's, perhaps she could even ask him to rescind Otulissa and Eskereye's banishments. On that hopeful thought, Belle let the griffons take her to their king's court. 

The griffon king held court inside the crown of a mountain — the caldera of an extinct volcano, though Belle wondered how there could be any volcanoes on top of the clouds. How did that even work? Or was this some other peculiarity of Titan magic thrown up in lost antiquity? She wanted to ask, but before she had the chance, she was brought before a massive red griffon with white markings. His aura of absolute authority was all the regalia he wore, but it was enough. 

_Your majesty._ Belle dipped her head in an approximation of a bow. 

_Ah, it's you._ The king stared at her with gold-rimmed eyes. _The pawn of Nevethe. What fate brings you here today? Is it escape you seek?_

_What? No!_ Taken aback to be recognized, Belle blurted out her answer without thinking. _Wait, how do you know who I am?_

_Nevethe may plot and scheme, an ancient spider in a dark wood, but she cannot hide her plans from me._ The king rose to his full height, his wings spreading ominously. 

_You, ah, disapprove?_ Belle wasn't sure what Nevethe's plans entailed, exactly, but she had gathered from Lumiere's hints and half-explanations that they wanted her to marry the Dark One and hopefully fall in love and maybe save the world someday. The order of events wasn't what she would have chosen, but given the strange relationship Nevethe had with time, Belle could almost understand it. Now that she had met Rumplestiltskin, she was fascinated by him, and yes, drawn to him and... 

_It is an unnatural perversion of fate._ The griffon king's voice was a bucket of cold water over her hopeful thoughts. _Look what it's done to you, child._

_What... what has it done?_

_Tainted your soul with darkness. Twisted your destiny and tied it to a demon, when you belong to the light._ The king sat back again, wings settling. _But thank heaven it is not too late. It is well that you came to us. We can return you to what you should be._

_That's very, uh, generous of you, your majesty. If I decide I need a change, I'll keep your offer in mind,_ said Belle, her hackles rising at yet another person trying to tell her what she 'should' be. 

_It's not an offer._ The king's eyes turned hard. _You brought darkness to this realm. It must be cleansed._ He lifted a claw, gathering up threads of magic. Something burned inside Belle's chest. 

It was the crystal. In her transformation, it had lodged inside her heart. She could feel it, feel how it linked her to Rumplestiltskin through light and shadow. 

_No, wait..._ Belle shrank back instinctively, her own magic flaring up to resist the griffon king. _Look, there's no need for this. Just send me back to the realm below, and this darkness you're so worried about will be gone._

More power surged around her, a cage locking her in place. All the griffons in the court were combining their magic to overwhelm her. 

_That cannot be permitted,_ said the griffon king. _There is great power in you — fire stolen from heaven. Should that power be aligned with the Dark One, all light will be threatened._

_What? I'm no threat to the light._ Belle beat uselessly against the spell imprisoning her. _But if you keep being this unreasonable, I may have to reconsider!_

_There! That is the voice of the darkness speaking._

_But..._ Belle swallowed the rest of her protest, knowing it would only make her look worse. The unfairness of it was infuriating. Instead, she concentrated on the crystal. If they thought she was dark, she'd show them darkness, darkness from someone far more used to the role than she. _Rumplestiltskin! Rumplestiltskin, I summon thee. Rumplestiltskin!_

* * *

Light wrestled darkness into submission, hauling it into the king's court. A Timer in shape, but pure shadow in substance, it hissed defiance, eyes glowing amber. The griffons lashed it with light, each blow leaching away more of the darkness, until the shadows frayed into nothing, leaving behind a human man curled up on the ground in a sad heap. He clambered unsteadily to his feet and when he lifted his head, Belle was shocked to recognize Rumplestiltskin. 

She had made a terrible mistake. Why hadn't she thought it through first? This was a realm where light was stronger than darkness, and the Dark One was no exception. She had summoned Rumplestiltskin into a trap. The worst of it was that she couldn't even speak to him, to explain. She was held immobile and silent by the griffon king's command, an impotent observer. 

_Dark One._ The griffon king loomed over his prisoner, wings spread aggressively. _Your kind is not welcome here._

"Yes, your rather violent reception demonstrated as much," said Rumplestiltskin with his signature hand flourish, but Belle could tell it was mostly bravado. She hoped for his sake he wouldn't antagonize the griffons. He met her eyes then. "But what about her? Is she welcome here? I notice you have her in a cage. Is this the latest fashion in guest accommodations in the land above the clouds?" 

The griffon king's wings swept down angrily, the resulting gust of wind nearly knocking Rumplestiltskin down. _Her mind is addled by your darkness._

Belle wanted to scream in frustration. 'Addled'!? 

Rumplestiltskin tried to stand up again, but his right leg gave out from under him and he dropped to his knees with a gasp. When he looked up again, his face was the human face Belle had seen in her visions with the other Rumplestiltskin at the Edge of Realms. "You can block my curse, but it's still here, and so am I. I'm not leaving without her." 

_Perhaps you are not leaving at all,_ said the griffon king silkily. _Perhaps this is a chance to rid the realms below of a great evil._

"Perhaps counts for nothing. You have no right to keep her, and you know it." 

_We have every right to keep you._

"A chance, you said. You have a chance, but so do we. By the ancient laws, that is our right, and you do play by the rules, don't you?" Rumplestiltskin looked up at the griffon king. "Belle is... we have a claim on each other." 

_We challenge the claim,_ snarled the griffon king. _That, too, is our right under the law — to demand proof._

"And if proof is provided, you release us from this realm, unharmed. Both of us." 

_And if you fail, both of you stay._

"Under less than hospitable conditions, eh?" Rumplestiltskin grimaced. "For me, at least. What of her?" 

_We will cleanse the stain upon her soul. This obscene binding will be broken, and she will be restored to the light as she was meant to be._

"And after that? She won't be your prisoner?" 

_We would have no reason to keep her against her will once darkness no longer claims her._

Rumplestiltskin sighed. He glanced up at Belle, and she could guess what he was thinking. "She could have her freedom..." 

_Don't you dare!_ Belle hoped he could read the thought as easily as she could read his. _Don't you dare give up!_

_She could,_ said the griffon king. _It is selfishness to yoke her light to your darkness. Renounce your claim._

"She deserves better than me." Rumplestiltskin dropped his gaze and visibly braced himself. "Nevertheless. I _am_ selfish. If you need proof, then proof you shall have." 

_Brave words,_ sneered the griffon king. _Let's see if you can live up to them._ He summoned more magic. A glowing golden cloud billowed out to fill the caldera. When it receded, he was perched on a lofty ridge. The ground below had been reshaped into a circle, almost like an arena, enclosed by a smooth stone wall too high for a crippled man to climb. Set around the perimeter of the circle were thirty-six pedestals. Belle found herself trapped on one of them, silent and unable to move as any statue. The other thirty-five were occupied by her own mirror images — griffons enchanted to match her, she realized. 

Rumplestiltskin knelt in the center of the circle. A blaze of white light filled his eyes. A wooden staff clattered to the ground next to him out of the air. And by the way Rumplestiltskin had to grope and fumble for it, Belle realized that the light had blinded him. 

_There are thirty-six creatures of light in the circle with you,_ said the griffon king. _Choose among them as you will. If you choose wrongly, then your claim fails and your fate belongs to us._

Rumplestiltskin nodded. With the help of the staff, he pulled himself to his feet. He limped forward cautiously, one arm outstretched. "Belle? Please, Belle..." 

_They may not answer in word or gesture,_ said the griffon king coldly. _If your claim is true, you need no such signs, nor any magic to guide you._

Rumplestiltskin's face fell. To Belle's eye, he looked terrified, and trying desperately to hide it. He stumbled forward, but not towards her pedestal. 

_One chance in thirty-six,_ Belle thought in despair. Not odds any sensible person would bet on. How was this even a fair test? Was the griffon king that determined to punish this violation of his territory? He was a creature of light! What happened to mercy and forgiveness? Did he really only care about maintaining the purity of his kingdom above the clouds? No, it was more than that, or he could have sent Belle back when she had asked. 

Rumplestiltskin's staff clacked as it hit the base of the pedestal. He traced its shape, then found the griffon perched on top. He limped closer, reaching out with his bare hand to touch the griffon's front talon. He wasn't tall enough to reach anything above its ankle. 

_Have you made your choice?_

Rumplestiltskin shook his head hastily and stumbled back, his hand dropping back to his side. "I need... I need time. You said no magic, no talking, and I agreed, but you didn't say anything about a time limit." 

_Very well,_ growled the griffon king. _Time you shall have. One hour to make your choice._

"Three hours," countered Rumplestiltskin. "I'm not exactly quick on my feet, your majesty." 

_So be it. Three hours._

Rumplestiltskin limped on around the circle, seeking out the next griffon. 

Belle clawed psychically at the spell binding her in place. It was futile. The combined will of the griffons under their king was too strong. If only she and Rumplestiltskin could work together, she thought they might stand a chance. The griffon king had said as much, hadn't he? _That's what they're afraid of. That's why they're trying to separate us,_ she realized with a start. That was why she was cut off inside this invisible cage. If only she had been more experienced before she so rashly flew into a strange realm! Then maybe she could have protected herself better. It was some consolation that the griffons seemed sincere in their desire to 'help' her, but it was equally clear that they would do horrible things to the Dark One, now that he had foolishly put himself in their power. 

_One chance in thirty-six of us both getting out of this in one piece._ Belle tried to hold onto hope, but she knew better. She had to prepare for the worst. _What if I go along with them, pretend to cooperate? Then, when they are lulled into carelessness, I can find wherever they're keeping Rumplestiltskin and free him. Together, we can fight._ But she couldn't help thinking that the odds of that succeeding were even worse than one in thirty-six. 

When Rumplestiltskin's fumbling exploration of the ring finally took him to Belle's pedestal, she strained even harder against the magic. _Please, oh please._ She focused on her own desperation, her desire to protect Rumplestiltskin, but she couldn't break free. Her anger at the griffon king was no more effective. Then Rumplestiltskin's fingers wrapped around her foreleg, and her heart shrieked for him to _know_ her. 

Then his hand slipped free and he turned and limped away. 

_No! Come back!_ Her plea tumbled uselessly inside her mind, going nowhere. 

Rumplestiltskin continued roaming the circle, meticulously checking each griffon once, twice, three times... 

Did he mean to run out the full three hours and then... then what? But no. Now he had stopped in front of Belle again. She held her breath, hoping. His hand reached out to her for a fourth time. She looked down into eyes that glowed like tiny stars, blinded by their own light. She read only doubt, uncertainty, fear on his face. 

Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat, but he didn't let go. Belle's heart raced. Was it possible...? Then he whispered hoarsely, "My choice. You... you are Belle..." 

The rest of his words were drowned out by the deafening cries of all the other griffons raised in anger, or fear, or some alien emotion beyond Belle's comprehension. The light in his eyes dimmed until they were again the warm amber now so familiar to her. 

Then the cries of the griffons cut a hole in the world and Belle fell through it. Rumplestiltskin, still gripping her foreleg, fell with her. 

The air of another realm whistled past her ears. Belle struggled to catch the wind with her wings, to slow their mad rush towards the ground. Then time ran out and she tumbled onto grass and dirt, the impact knocking the breath out of her. Rumplestiltskin, his fall partially cushioned by her body, recovered first, rolling himself off her and half-crawling a few feet away before he managed to sit up. 

The griffon's shape melted away, and Belle found herself with human hands and feet and a form woven of flesh and blood rather than threads of light. Everything ached and she was reluctant to move. Her eyes turned to find Rumplestiltskin looking at her. His face was that of the glittering imp again, but wan and drawn with exhaustion. Belle winced at the sight. "I'm sorry. It was stupid of me to fly off by myself. And when I found myself in trouble, I summoned you into a trap." 

"No, you... you shouldn't blame yourself." Rumplestiltskin didn't quite meet her eyes, looking shamed by her concern. "It's not your fault." 

Belle wanted to hug him, but didn't quite dare. "I didn't know they would be like that. That they could stop your magic." 

"Yes, well, it is their realm. My darkness... disturbs their light." Rumplestiltskin glanced up and flashed a grin, but Belle could see the hollowness of it. He looked utterly drained. 

"That's no reason to torture you," Belle said hotly. 

"It's... arguable." Rumplestiltskin dropped his gaze again. His voice had gone quiet. "They're not wrong about me. I _am_ a monster. I have too much blood on my hands. And I think you know that. That's how..." 

When he didn't finish the sentence, Belle prompted gently, "That's how...?" 

Rumplestiltskin sighed, looking down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting restlessly. "That's how I knew it was you. Out of all the griffons there, you were the one who trembled at my touch. You were the only one who had reason to fear me..." 

Belle's heart broke at his confession. This time she did close the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him, bruises and all. "Oh, no, no, no, that's not why. I was scared _for_ you, never _of_ you..." 

He stiffened in shock. He whispered against her ear, "Oh, Belle. You don't... you can't..." 

"I can. I do." She knew he was the Dark One. She was starting to understand, especially after having met the other, older version of him, how the darkness was a burden. But she also understood it to be a gift, this power that had saved her family and her people. Even without it, he had still come to save her today, risking his own freedom. She trusted him to bear his darkness wisely. "You're more than just a monster." 

Rumplestiltskin pulled away. He said harshly, "I'm a murderer. Association with me will only sully your soul." 

"You came when I needed you. Each time." But it was more than gratitude that she felt for him. "And my soul isn't some perfect jewel to be kept in a sealed chest. Life is light and dark, and I... I want to share it with you. Please, don't push me away." 

"I push everyone away," said Rumplestiltskin, not looking at her. "Even my son, when he saw what I had become, he didn't want... this... for his father." 

"And you loved him." Belle could hear it clearly in his voice, so filled with pain and regret. "And so you tried to be better for him, didn't you?" 

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "I was a coward. Twice over. And so I lost him." 

"I'm sorry." She reached for his hand. 

He looked down at where her fingers covered his. "If we go through with this farce of a wedding, in time, you would come to hate me for it." His voice became nearly inaudible. "I don't think I could bear that." 

"But that means..." Hope sprang up in her heart. "If you knew I wouldn't hate you, if I _loved_ you, then you would want to...?" 

Rumplestiltskin sighed. "I'm a selfish man. That was why I made that deal in the first place, without even knowing anything about you." 

"I don't understand." 

"Foreknowledge is a curse, always has been. All my life I've been plagued by prophecy." He glanced sideways at her, hoping perhaps for her understanding or forgiveness. "Everything, it's always been for my boy. For him I became a coward, then a monster, and now, a despoiler of innocents." 

"Lumiere told me you could see the future, but wouldn't say if you saw me in it," said Belle. She wasn't convinced the future was already decided, but she didn't know if she was just fooling herself. "I would hate that, to know that whatever I did, it made no difference to fate." 

"Indeed," breathed Rumplestiltskin, pain etched in his face. "Prophecy only gave me more ways to fail. Shattering my foot was easy compared to everything that followed." 

Belle looked at him, horrified. "You shattered your own foot?" 

Rumplestiltskin ducked his head in shame. "During the first ogres war, a seer told me I would leave my son fatherless. Well, I thought I was so clever, that a coward for a father was better than none at all." He scoffed bitterly. "Perhaps I was wrong about that, as I was wrong about so many things..." 

"But you lived, and your son had his father. I don't think that was so wrong." 

"Others didn't. Others died. I told you, I'm a selfish man." Rumplestiltskin sighed. "That war never ended. Fourteen years we had, before I took on this darkness to save him from what should have been my fate. My brave boy, he would never have run, not like his father. But even as the Dark One, I'm the same coward I always was. He tried to save me, but I abandoned him..." He hunched over, hiding his tears behind his hands. 

"I'm so sorry," Belle said helplessly, not knowing how to comfort him. "Is he... you said he was 'lost'. Not... dead?" 

He shook his head. "I've Seen... there were visions." He took a shuddering breath. "His death. But she said, the Queen of the Wood Beyond, that there was a way... that I could save him. That I would need _you_. That I had to marry you." 

"Me? Rumplestiltskin, if I can help you save your son, of course I'll do it." Belle had no idea how she could help, but she hoped he knew. "You could have told us this before, instead of letting everyone think you're this monster, this heartless Dark One." 

"Tell you that I only want to use you? To save my family at the expense of yours?" Rumplestiltskin glanced at her briefly, as if expecting anger or disgust. 

"But you're telling me _now_ ," Belle pointed out. "What... what changed your mind?" 

"You. I met _you!_ " He fell silent again, composing himself after his outburst. He said in a lower voice, "I couldn't... couldn't let you think..." 

"Think what? That you..." Belle hesitated to say it out loud, but she wanted to hear it. "That you might care? About me?" 

"It's all for my son," Rumplestiltskin insisted. "Only for him." 

"Then... if there was no vision, no prophecy, you wouldn't want to marry me at all?" Belle chided herself for feeling hurt by such a rejection when she really had no right to. He had trusted her with his secrets, knowledge that he had kept out of every book written about the Dark One. She couldn't be so greedy as to demand more from him when he had already given her so much. 

"You deserve so much better. Better than to be forced into a union with the Dark One for his own selfish purposes." Rumplestiltskin sighed heavily. "But I can't... I can't give him up. Because he deserves better, too. He deserves to know that he's loved, that his papa is sorry. He deserves to _live_." He wiped viciously at the streaks of tears running down his cheeks. "So it doesn't matter what I want, or what you deserve. I will do whatever I must, for him." 

"I understand," Belle whispered. Her mother had made the deal with the Dark One for the same reason, after all — to save her family. "What... what's his name? Your son?" 

Rumplestiltskin's head snapped up. Wide-eyed, he swallowed. Then, "His name is Baelfire." 

Belle smiled. "Then I promise you, Rumplestiltskin, I'll help you however I can to save Baelfire. And I'll marry you for yourself, if you ask me." 

"That... that sounds more like you asking _me_ ," he said with the ghost of his usual flippancy. His eyes still looked stunned, almost frightened. 

"Then I should give you time to think about it," said Belle. The frightened look shifted into something more yearning. She hoped that he did feel something for her, but he still said nothing. She wondered then how long it had been since he had asked for anything for his own sake. He called himself selfish, and a coward, but somewhere beneath that was a person who also deserved better. "You can ask me later. First we have to get out of this place, wherever it is." 

"It's nowhere in the Enchanted Forest. The griffon king agreed to release us from his realm, not to send us home." Rumplestiltskin snorted. "A bit of pettiness is as much 'vengeance' as he'll allow himself." 

* * *

The realm the griffon had sent them to was a mortal mirror of the land above the clouds, its radiance only a shade darker than that above. The sunlight hit Rumplestiltskin like a thousand needles piercing his skin. He had been bled nearly dry of all his power by the griffons. He hated feeling this weak and mortal, but there was nothing to be done except wait for the magic to recover. 

"I don't think I can get us back just yet," he admitted, knowing that he was letting Belle down again. Miraculously, instead of being disgusted at his failures, she merely nodded and smiled. 

"You should rest. It doesn't look so bad here." She glanced around, and Rumplestiltskin followed her gaze. The sun was high overhead, shining down on a grassy expanse punctuated by solitary trees and brush. Herds of mundane wildlife grazed in the distance. "But we should move somewhere with more shade." 

Rumplestiltskin nodded. He gestured at her to lead the way. He followed slowly, trying not to wince at the motion. He waved her off when she offered to lend him an arm. "Can't let the lions see me hobbling about or they'll be on us in a flash." 

"There's lions?" Belle stopped, looking alarmed. 

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "Stands to reason. Lions and wolves and others. You don't see any fences or houses or smoke, do you? That means it's teeth and claws we need to watch out for rather than spears and bows." 

"Oh." 

"Don't worry, dear. You have teeth and claws of your own, and magic if those prove unpersuasive." 

The smile returned to her face, and she blushed slightly. "I suppose I do." 

He looked away. "Yes, well. Let's keep moving, shall we?" 

They stumbled at length into the shadow of an acacia tree, displacing a small herd of long-necked deer. Rumplestiltskin dropped to the ground with his back against the trunk, grateful to be out of the sun. "Animals tend not to like the scent of darkness, especially not ones in a realm so close to the light." 

"I...I'll put up a protection spell, just in case the scent of darkness isn't enough to keep the lions away," said Belle. 

He watched her work her magic, entranced by the beauty of it. His spells were ugly things fueled by fear or anger, but Belle drew on her desire to protect those she cared for. Even if that was the Dark One. He didn't know how she had forgiven him for ruining her life, but he swore he would be the best man he could be for her sake. 

_Didn't you say the same to your son? And how well did that work out?_ jeered the darkness. 

Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth. He would _try_ , damn it. For Bae. For Belle. And when Belle turned, finished with her spell, to give him another smile, he did his best to return it, however awkward and tentative it felt on his own face. He cleared his throat, then ventured, "You must be getting hungry. I don't suppose the griffons fed you?" 

Belle shook her head. "I suppose they were too distracted." 

"I suppose they were, at that." Rumplestiltskin cast an eye at the landscape. "Hmm." 

"I could... I could hunt," said Belle. She looked down at her hands and flexed her fingers. "Claws and teeth, right? Well, more of a beak..." But the chuckle that followed sounded uneasy. 

Rumplestiltskin glanced at her. "Hunting not to your taste?" _Of course not, you idiot,_ he berated himself. _She's kind and compassionate, a noblewoman. She's not the Dark One, to eagerly fill her mouth with blood._

"I'm sorry," she said, as if _she_ had anything to apologize for. "I know how the food gets on the table, and I'm not one to turn up my nose at meat. I've just never thought of myself as a hunter. Gaston... he was always going on about the hunt..." 

Rumplestiltskin saw the pained, pinched expression on her face and cursed himself. Of course she wanted nothing to do with anything that reminded her of Gaston. "No, no, it's all right. I'll go." He gathered his feet under himself and stood up, leaning heavily on the tree as he caught his breath. 

Belle's eyes widened. "You're still hurt! I can do it." 

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "No need. The Dark One still has a few tricks up his sleeve!" He _was_ feeling better already. "If you get a fire going, I'll bring back something to fill our stomachs." Ignoring his aches and pains, he pushed off from the tree and took a few steps. "You see? World-crossing may be beyond me at the moment, but there's nothing wrong with my legs!" 

Belle let out her breath in a soft huff. "Fine, oh mighty hunter." 

"Hardly that, but there's more than one way to skin an antelope." Rumplestiltskin stepped back into the open grassland. He had spotted them already, the black dots circling in the sky. There. Not so far away. When he arrived, the vultures were still waiting their chance — a pack of wild dogs was feasting on the remains of a large bearded antelope. 

His arrival wasn't taken well, _hyena_ being one of the less offensive epithets barked at him. He forced himself to be patient. The dogs were wary of his dark magic, but there was always a deal to be made, and he didn't return empty-handed. 

"A deal? What kind of deal can a dog make?" Belle asked, half in wonder, half in admiration as he chopped up his haul and put the chunks of meat on peeled, sharpened sticks. 

"To be purged of their many and noisome intestinal parasites," he explained, waving a hand in his trademark flourish. "A simple enough spell, even in my current, diminished state. The Dark One reduced to a bringer of death to worms, now that's a comedown for you." 

Belle smiled. "I think it's very kind of you." 

Rumplestiltskin spun around in a gesture of mock disgust, but was secretly pleased. "Bah!" 

"I have water," Belle offered. She had conjured two mugs from somewhere. 

He sniffed at it suspiciously. "From some muddy hole, no doubt?" 

"It's from an enchanted gourd," Belle poked at him in indignation. "From the royal treasury of Yrkthera. Aurora gave it to me." 

"Very practical," Rumplestiltskin grumbled, but he sipped from the mug without further ado. In truth, he was pathetically grateful for every one of her smiles and teasing retorts. If it had been Milah, he would already have had an earful pointing out all his inadequacies and failings. And Belle was born to a royal family, used to great feasts and fine wines. 

The thought made him feel guilty enough that later he muttered apologetically, "When we get back to the Dark Castle, there'll be plenty of better fare than meat on sticks and plain water..." 

"I don't mind," said Belle. "But how _do_ we get back? Can you teach me the spell? I wish I still had that wand the other you had..." 

Rumplestiltskin suppressed a shiver. "No, we don't need a wand. I can always find the Dark Castle, if I can find a shadow here dark enough to step through. But your affinity is with the light..." 

"Lumiere took us to the Wood Beyond through the shadow realm before," said Belle, "but I don't think I can open that kind of door." 

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "There are other ways you could travel, but it would take time for you to learn them." 

"How soon can you take us back?" 

"I should be recovered in another day or so." Rumplestiltskin glanced sidelong at her. "I'm afraid you're stuck with my company until then." 

"I don't mind," said Belle for a second time that day. Later, as she drifted off in a cushion of dried grass next to the cooling remains of their fire, she mused, "It's strange. Sometimes I feel as if I've known you forever." 

The statement caught him by surprise, and before he could restrain himself, he blurted out, "I feel the same." 

"I'm glad," murmured Belle. 

He glanced over to see her eyes still shut. "Belle..." He was sitting a few feet away, keeping watch into the night. The Dark One didn't _need_ to sleep. He swallowed his hopes and said, "It means nothing. We're being manipulated." 

Belle's eyes popped open and she lifted her head to stare at him. "What are you talking about?" 

Rumplestiltskin rotated his hand, letting a bit of light flash from the crystal mounted on his ring. "These crystals. They connect us to each other, and to the magic of Nevethe. Echoes of other realities seep into our souls. It's an illusion. It's worse now that we've met face to face." 

"I don't care," said Belle, after a long pause. "It's not a bad thing. You're who you are, and so I am. Those aren't lies." 

"They're still manipulating us! Nevethe wants something from us." 

"So? That doesn't mean it's a bad thing. Don't tell me you've never manipulated anyone, Rumplestiltskin." 

He flinched. She was right, of course. She was also too generous and optimistic. In his experience, people manipulated others to their own ends, caring little for the price paid by their pawns. "Yes. That's how I know..." 

Belle's voice softened. "It was for Baelfire, wasn't it?" 

He couldn't get the words out to answer her. 

Belle dropped her head back onto her arm, her eyes closing again. "No one decides for me but me. I told you I didn't mind, and that's my choice..." 

Rumplestiltskin watched her sleep. He tried to believe her words, but it was so much easier to believe the darkness when it told him that hope was nothing but disappointment waiting to crush him. 


	21. Chapter 21

"Father, I'm back." Belle hadn't spoken to Maurice since he had tried to hurl her off a cliff, but she hoped that a few days of absence had given him time to clear his mind from the curse. To her dismay, he looked more haggard than ever. Hadn't they been able to get him some potions to help him sleep? She had found him in the guest quarters, poring over some tome borrowed from the Dark One's library. Her father had never been much of a reader, yet now he went through a pile of books with a feverish, haunted look in his eyes — a look he now turned on Belle. She tensed. Colette had said he regretted his actions, that he had been rendered incapable of trying again. 

The violence of his actions against his own daughter had incurred a karmic cost, allowing Lumiere and Cogsworth to use their Nevethean magic to bind him with a geas, that he could never again compel anyone to his will or harm anyone physically. But the geas apparently didn't extend to his words. 

"Oh, my girl, I don't think you'll ever come back," Maurice said with ruthless serenity. "He's twisted you into a beast..." 

Belle pressed her lips tightly together, biting back a retort and trying to stay calm. Even so, the good mood from her happy reunion with her friends and sister had evaporated. Just as well Rumplestiltskin hadn't accompanied her to see her parents. He was still sometimes skittish around her — but he had another trial yet to complete, so that was understandable. 

"Maurice," said Colette softly, dropping her basket of embroidery to join her husband at the desk. She rested a hand on his shoulder. "Don't speak so to our daughter. She needs our love." 

"And are we to expect hers in return? She cleaves to that demon over her own father." Maurice looked at his wife. "You know I speak the truth." 

"I know no such thing," snapped Colette. "I only know that this mad quest of yours will drive her even further away." 

Maurice banged a fist on the desk, the illusion of calm shattered. "I'm looking for a way to save her! To free her, and all of us, from a dark fate!" 

The words had a depressingly familiar ring to them. "That's what the griffon king said, but we proved that he was wrong. That this fate isn't something anyone needs to 'save' me from!"

"A heathen beast," sneered Maurice, "preying on the weak-hearted." He stabbed at one of the books. "We can do better than that. There is a tale of a divine relic called the 'Shears of Destiny'..." 

"Sounds impressive. Is that what you're planning to give me for my birthday present?" asked Belle jokingly, trying to deflect him from whatever terrible new plan he was brewing and herself from the fear that he might succeed this time, geas or no geas. 

Colette was just as eager to lighten the conversation. "That's right, darling. Your birthday is only a few days away. Maurice, please, let's try to be happy for her, instead of immuring yourself here with such dark thoughts. Midsummer is a time of joy and celebration of life." 

"Yes, Lizzy said it's one of the big festivals in Schlaraffenland, just like it is back home," said Belle. 

Maurice squinted at her, muttering, "Longest day... blessed by the gods... maybe..." 

"Yes, very good," said Colette. "It will be just the thing. The Dark Castle could do with a bit of cheer. Fresh flowers, festival decorations — I'm sure it will be lovely." 

* * *

"The Dark One doesn't do _decorations!_ " grumbled the imp when Belle, Colette, and Sylvie caught up to him in the great hall at the end of one of his regular court sessions. 

"True enough," said Cogsworth. "Twenty-two years I've lived in this castle and not once has he bothered with such frills." 

"Just because you didn't before, doesn't mean you can't now," Belle pointed out. 

Sylvie added, "Belle is a daughter of the royal house of Avonlea, your _lordship_." The slight emphasis on the title made it sound like an insult. Belle supposed that to her sister, it was. Their family styled themselves kings, royal and descended from a goddess, while Rumplestiltskin had no such nobility in his blood. 

"That and a penny will buy her a loaf of bread in Schlaraffenland," sneered Rumplestiltskin. "The Dark Castle stands eternal. It's not some fly-by-night festival tent to fly ribbons and kites! And if you want a bloody _royal_ ball, that's your business, but not in _my_ castle." 

Sylvie looked taken aback by the crude language, but Belle shook her head at her sister, secretly amused. 

"Now get the hell out before I decide to _decorate_ my gardens with a fresh batch of toads!" 

"Fine." Belle didn't think he was serious, but she had backed him into a corner by approaching him so publicly, and he looked on edge under the show of bad temper. She herded her mother and sister out the doors. "We'll think of something else." 

* * *

"Actually, the big Midsummer festivities take place in Valledor — that's the village in the valley under the castle," Lizzy told them later. "The Dark One doesn't usually show his face, but all the household staff go down, and folk come from all over to see them..." 

"Right, because they're actually dead shades kept on this plane by necromancy," said Belle, remembering. 

"Don't make it sound so morbid," complained Ragwort. "It's nice." 

"Nice!" Sylvie shuddered. "I don't think I'll ever get used to all the dark magic in this place." 

Belle poked her sister in the ribs. "Hey, 'this place' is my home now." 

"Don't remind me. It's driving Father mad." 

"Well, this year I bet there'll be even more folk than usual, 'cos they'll be wanting to see you, Belle." Jacques grinned smugly. "New Dark Lady and all that." 

"Ha, yeah. If I hadn't taken a vow of poverty, I'd charge 'em a penny each to get a peek at you," said Jean. 

Belle frowned. "What, I'm a sideshow freak now?" 

"Aw, we don't mean it like that." Jacques at least looked apologetic. "They're just curious. The Dark One's been alone as long as anyone can remember." 

"Folk'll be wanting to give you gifts and all, for luck, you know," said Lizzy. 

"Or in hopes of a better deal in case they need something from the Dark One?" suggested Belle. It went against the grain for her to think like that, but while in Avonlea she had been basically powerless, it would be different for the wife of the Dark One. 

"That's as may be," said Lizzy. "But it's the custom here, gifts at Midsummer." 

"But what about the clerics?" asked Sylvie. "In Avonlea, the archbishop blesses the day, and the Church organizes the mystery play, you know, the one to celebrate the gods. And what about the sacrifices?" 

The others looked at each other. Jacques fidgeted, rubbing a finger over the brand on his face that marked him as an outcast. "Um." 

Then Ragwort shrugged. "We aren't much for the gods, here in Schlaraffenland. They mind their own business and so do we. Midsummer is Midsummer by the sun and the earth, and it's older than any god." 

"I'm sure it will be fine," Belle reassured her sister. "I mean, Mother and Father don't like me turning into a heretic, but it can't be helped. With everything that's happened the past few years, it's just as well..." 

Sylvie looked a little shocked, but didn't press her for details. "I just don't want you to be damned to hell. The clerics say—" 

"The clerics don't know everything, Sylvie. I don't either, but I've seen a few things that opened my eyes." Belle smiled as reassuringly as she could. "Anyway, I don't think a whole country can be damned to hell, so you shouldn't worry too much about me." 

"And what about the Dark One?" asked Lizzy. "Ought we worry about him? You said he had a bad time of it in his second trial with the griffon king and all." 

"Y'think the third will be before or after Midsummer?" asked Jean. 

"I wish I knew." Belle had faith that Rumplestiltskin would try his best, but she knew that he wasn't nearly as invulnerable as he wanted the world to think. "I suppose it's up to the High Archon. Or fate." 

* * *

Fate, or the High Archon, each as inscrutable as the other, left them in peace until Midsummer Day. The Dark Castle guests were up early, a festive breakfast served up buffet style in the great hall. Colette and Sylvie had commandeered the kitchen to make Belle's favorite crepes, the ones dusted with sugar, for her birthday. The ogres laughed at the humans' sweet tooth, and contributed their own traditional fare, fried potato pancakes laced with bits of salted meat. There were also baskets of bread, fruit, and an impressive array of sausages and cheese, along with a few dishes unknown in Avonlea. 

Small gifts of embroidery, colorful ribbons, dried fruit, sweets, and the like were exchanged as the guests circulated through the hall. Belle, caught short in an unfamiliar place, had had to beg gifts for her friends the night before from her mother. Lady Colette, being more experienced with diplomatic missions, had come prepared with boxes of tasteful trinkets to smooth the way — whether as polite tokens of respect or as minor bribes, though those had proven superfluous when dealing with the Dark One, who accepted gifts (and whatever strings came implicitly attached) from no one. Rumplestiltskin didn't join in the Midsummer exchanges, either, apparently considering his obligations satisfied with the provision of a breakfast feast. 

Jean and Ragwort were the only ones to eat the fermented fish. Jean had it on bread while Ragwort ate it straight. They offered a sample to Belle. One whiff was too much. 

Jacques and Lizzy laughed uproariously while Belle gagged, eyes screwed shut as she tried to keep her breakfast down. 

Sylvie made a disgusted face and turned away. 

"Smells like piss, eh?" said Jacques. 

"It's an acquired taste." Lizzy patted Belle soothingly on the back. "Like the pickled fish back in Avonlea." 

Belle nodded, not daring to open her mouth to speak. 

As fate would have it, this was the moment the Dark One strolled into the great hall, accompanied by three people Belle hadn't seen before. 

_Damn his timing!_ Belle straightened and tried to look presentable, and not as if she was about to vomit. 

Rumplestiltskin shot Belle a bemused glance before his gaze skittered away. "Ah, maybe stay away from the rotten fish if you have a functioning nose..." 

Belle didn't dare say anything, but to her relief, Ragwort seemed to recognize at least one of the strangers and provided a distraction as she greeted him cheerfully. 

"Cousin Victor! I didn't know you were coming up here." 

Confusingly, the man looked human, though rather pale. His hair was bleached to a nearly white blond and he wore a high-collared leather jacket. He smiled wryly at Ragwort, then nodded at the other man, who came accompanied by a girl Belle guessed to be around ten or eleven. "Jefferson thought we ought to pay our respects..." 

Rumplestiltskin gestured flamboyantly at the new visitors. "This is Victor Frankenstein, a scientist from the Land Without Color. The good doctor is studying with the ghouls. And this is Jefferson, a realm jumper with an inordinate fondness for headgear. His daughter, Grace." 

Jefferson doffed his hat (a sleek black cylinder unlike any hats Belle was familiar with) and bowed. "The hat maketh the man!" 

Rumplestiltskin continued the introductions, a rapid-fire recitation of names as he went through the Avonlean party. 

Grace dashed off to explore the food-laden table. Her father approached Belle with a sly smile. He cocked his head as he examined her. Then he snapped his fingers, "As I thought! You've worn a hat or two in your time, haven't you, princess?" 

Belle blinked, then nodded and managed a smile. Who didn't wear a hat now and then? 

"Well, I hear it's your birthday today, so, Grace and I would like you to have this." Jefferson presented her with a plain wooden box small enough to fit in one hand. 

"Uh, thank you." Belle was relieved when she sounded almost normal. She opened the box to reveal a small golden feather. It radiated magic, but very old and faded to almost nothing. 

"Now, a little birdie told me you have a feather already, but that? That's the real thing," Jefferson told her. 

"The real what?" She let the box snap closed again. Was he referring to her membership in the Wingfoot Guild in the Maritime Kingdom? 

"That would be telling!" Jefferson winked and turned to Rumplestiltskin. "See? Easy as pie! Now it's your turn." 

The Dark One smiled shyly even as Jefferson ducked out of the way. "Ah..." He took a step forward, his hands clasped behind his back. Then he brought his hand forward, holding a single red rose towards Belle. "For you, if you'll have it." 

Was this his awkward way of apologizing for his rudeness the other day? Belle smiled and accepted the rose with a curtsey, playing at courtly manners. "Why, thank you." 

He bowed back. "I hope you find at least some of the food to your liking." 

Belle giggled. She sniffed at the rose, inhaling a rich scent that drove away the memory of the fermented fish. "It's lovely. I enjoy trying new things." 

Rumplestiltskin's fingers twitched and he peered at her, head bobbing nervously. "Well, in that case, you should go down to the village. Don't want to miss the parade. Or the dragon!" 

* * *

The village was overflowing with visitors. Wagons and tents covered the meadow outside the village gate, many of them bedecked with colorful ribbons, while kites fluttered in the wind, tethered to poles. There really was a parade. And a dragon, which flew past without landing. 

"The Archon of the Snowcaps," explained Ragwort. "She flies over the territory for the festivals." 

The parade was a small but noisy affair. Two of the local children were crowned with flowers and leaves as the King and Queen of Midsummer, tossing pennies to the spectators as they led the procession in a horse-drawn cart. They were followed by minstrels, dancers, tumblers, and jesters juggling balls and clubs. 

The parade dissolved at the end of its circuit into a chaotic revel. Grace and Jefferson handed out sticks and ribbons and sticks with extra long streamers to the Avonleans. Apparently the man traded in more than hats. The brightly colored ribbons were swirled around in patterns in a local folk dance. Even Sylvie was cajoled into taking a ribbon and looping it in big circles. 

Later there was a puppet show, much like the one Belle had seen in North Haven, except performed in a traveling theatre in a horse-drawn wagon. Bite-sized food was served up in stalls, free for the asking. 

"Everyone is a beggar on Midsummer Day," Jacques told Belle. 

_The Dark One sponsors half the stalls,_ Otulissa added. _Even though he complains about the noise and the fuss, he secretly likes feeding people, you know._

"Only until sunset," said Ragwort. "After dark the party moves to the Catacombs. Midsummer marks the new year on the traditional ghoul calendar." She gurgled something gutteral and indecipherable, presumably the word for the day in the ghoul language. 

Belle nodded. She was curious to see this underground realm of the ghouls, an opportunity rarely offered to humans outside Schlaraffenland. 

But while daylight lasted, the villagers spent their lucky Midsummer pennies to buy small gifts for each other. As her friends had predicted, Belle was the recipient of a fair number of these, to the point where Lizzy found her a basket to hold the random scented soaps, whittled wooden animals, and charm bags offered to her. 

Belle wandered through the village, enjoying the festive atmosphere. It wasn't so different from feast days in other kingdoms, despite the dark magic permeating Schlaraffenland and the dearth of holy men and women to consecrate the day. 

"Lady Belle!" A man and a woman approached Belle, the woman offering yet another charm bag just like the two already in her basket, but something about them struck her as out of place. Was it the cut of their clothes? Or their faces? They seemed vaguely familiar, though she was sure she hadn't met them before. "Please, a gift for the... the Dark One's bride." 

Belle shrugged mentally. People must have traveled here from all over. She smiled graciously. "That's very kind. Thank you." 

She reached out for the bag. The cloth tingled to the touch. Was it magic? Then her whole arm went numb, and suddenly she was unable to move, her own magic paralyzed. Her stomach sank in dismay. _Squid ink! It must be squid ink!_ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the rest of the village going about its business, not even noticing her or her captors. Her basket had slipped off her arm, spilling its contents unnoticed at her feet. 

The smiling couple dropped their pretense of friendliness and dragged Belle into what seemed to be one of the traveling show wagons, but once inside, the illusion melted away and she found herself trapped inside iron bars, bars imbued with an enchantment that cut Belle off from the outside world and suppressed her magic. 

She was a prisoner. _Again_. She raged silently, _Damn it all to hell, this is bloody ridiculous!_


	22. Chapter 22

Rumplestiltskin watched Belle from the top of a tower as she walked away from the Dark Castle. She looked so happy among her friends and family, and she deserved to enjoy her birthday and the Midsummer festival without the shadow of the Dark One looming over her. 

_She's not coming back,_ whispered the treacherous voice of his fear. _She only said what she said because she was frightened and trapped in a strange realm. She needed you to get home. That's all it was. Who else could she turn to?_

Rumplestiltskin's fists clenched at his sides. She had accepted the rose, hadn't she? And, implicitly, him. 

_It means nothing, not when she knows she'll be free when you fail your third trial,_ jeered the darkness. 

He looked at the rose, a vivid spot of color on the dining room table. Belle had found a vase in one of the cabinets, pleased to have a bit of 'decoration' after all. Such a small thing for her to smile so brilliantly at him. _I won't fail._

_No one believes that. Everyone knows how pathetic you are when faced with a real test._ The darkness stirred up memories of the pirate mocking him, of Baelfire's terrified face after his father abandoned him to the portal, of Hordor demanding his fealty. 

Rumplestiltskin banished the images with an effort. Then he heard another voice in his mind, another memory. 

_I was scared_ for _you, never_ of _you..._

She had said that, her face shining with sincerity. To _him_. For her sake, he had to be strong. For her. For Bae. 

Long after the distant figures on the mountain road were lost from sight, Rumplestiltskin retreated to his spinning wheel and tried to forget his fears. At least for a while. At least for this day when the castle lay still and silent, the usual inhabitants all fled to haunt cheerier locales. He barely noticed as morning turned into noon, and noon into afternoon. 

The summons came as a complete shock. Oh, people tried to summon him all the time, shouting his name or making up useless rituals to try to compel him. He only answered when it suited him, or if the summons was desperate enough to enthrall the darkness coiled inside his soul. 

But this was a voice he had not heard in nearly three centuries. It was impossible. A trick. _It was him._ It didn't matter if it was a lie. This was the one call he had to answer, no matter what. Rumplestiltskin let the magic wrap around him, taking him away. 

Taking him to his son. His son, who looked barely older than the night Rumplestiltskin had lost him to the portal. His son, who had gone to the Land Without Magic. Yet here he stood, in this damp cave that smelled of the sea and hissed with the distant sound of the surf. 

"Bae..." Rumplestiltskin whispered the name, wanting desperately to believe, but just as terrified that he wasn't real. "Bae?" 

The boy stared back at him in stony-faced silence, lit from below by the oil lamp that swung from his hand. Rumplestiltskin took a step forward, arm trembling as he reached out — to test his reality, to embrace him — but Baelfire flinched away. 

Rumplestiltskin froze. His hand fell back to his side. "Oh, Bae. I'm so sorry. I... I never stopped looking for you, I swear it." Tears welled up, blurring his vision. But even when he shut his eyes, he saw the unforgiving resentment in every line of his son's body, the anger on his face. "Every moment since I lost you, I've been looking for a way to find you. To save you." 

Baelfire said nothing. 

"Please, son. You were right." Rumplestiltskin could do nothing but babble into that unrelenting silence. "I was a coward. I should have gone with you." His knees unaccountably weak, he leaned heavily against the smooth cave wall. "Bae... please, let me make it right." 

"What, by killing me like you killed Mama?" 

Rumplestiltskin's eyes opened in shock to see his son gesturing at his own chest. "What... no! I..." 

Baelfire laughed bitterly. "You're not just a coward. You're a liar. You chose the power of your damned dagger over me, and that's all you've done since. Power is all you care about. The Dark One, tyrant of two kingdoms!" 

"It's not like that. It was for you, it was what I promised." Rumplestiltskin sank to the ground in despair, knowing how it must seem. "To save all the children... it wasn't about the power." 

"Funny coincidence, then," sneered Baelfire. "You thought you were well rid of me, I bet. Sitting on your throne with no one to hold you back from whatever you wanted to do." 

"No!" Then all the breath seemed to go out of him. He couldn't speak. What could he say when his son looked at him with such contempt? 

"Am I wrong? Are you not the ruler of the Frontlands and Cockayne, then, _Papa?_ " 

"I am," Rumplestiltskin whispered hoarsely, hanging his head in shame. "But you don't understand... they were dying. One war after another, it never ended. I just wanted... I had to end it." 

"So you locked them up, surrounded them with your _power_ , just like you did to me? Keeping them _safe_." 

"Not... not like that." His son had reason to think that, Rumplestiltskin knew, but his remorse was useless. He had made Bae into a prisoner out of fear that Peter Pan (that the _world_ ) would take him, but had only driven him away in the end. "I... I'm trying to be better. I know you think I don't care about you..." 

"You think I'm some trinket in your hoard. You didn't care what I thought, what I felt." Bae's voice rose, and Rumplestiltskin heard the pain cracking through the anger. "You never listened to me!" 

"I'm sorry," Rumplestiltskin said helplessly. "I'll listen. I'm listening now. I promise." 

"Just like the last promise?" Baelfire shook his head. "No. No, I'm not going to believe you again." 

"Tell me what I have to do to gain your trust," Rumplestiltskin begged, "and I will." 

"There's one thing. Give me the Dark One dagger." Bae's voice was cold, as if he knew his father would refuse. "It's the only thing that can stop you." 

_It's a trick,_ warned the darkness. _Lies to make you weak. Don't be stupid!_

He had let his son carry the dagger once before. It had turned him into a killer. Rumplestiltskin had taken it back before it could darken Bae's soul any further. For him to wield it now, when he was so hurt and so angry, would only be more dangerous. 

At his hesitation, Baelfire scoffed. "I knew it. You didn't mean any of it." He started to turn away. 

"No, wait!" Rumplestiltskin had chosen the dagger over his son once before, and he couldn't do it again, no matter what. A twitch of his wrist brought the dagger to his hand. Not daring to meet Baelfire's eyes, Rumplestiltskin climbed to his feet and held out the dagger. "I meant every word. Take it, son." 

The dagger was snatched out of his hand, then Baelfire darted back again. 

Rumplestiltskin risked a brief glance at his face. At even that slight movement, Baelfire raised the dagger between them. 

"Don't move!" His voice shook on the command. "Don't do anything. No magic." 

Rumplestiltskin froze. His son looked dazed, disbelieving. But after a moment, Baelfire tucked the dagger away inside his jacket. He wanted to ask, what now? But the words stuck in his throat. 

Baelfire backed away step by step, deeper into the cave. Then someone stepped out from the tunnel, a man who towered over the scrawny teen. 

"You did it?" Then the light hit his face and Rumplestiltskin recognized Gaston. "Good boy." 

_Gaston?_ Rumplestiltskin's blood ran cold. How did he know of Baelfire? How had he found him when the Dark One hadn't been able to? Worse, how had he won Baelfire's trust? 

_You lost it, dearie,_ the darkness reminded him. _All your own doing. You threw his trust away like so much rubbish, so who else can you blame if someone picks up what you didn't care enough to keep?_

From behind Baelfire, Gaston grinned wolfishly at Rumplestiltskin, his single eye alight in triumph. But his tone was kind as he laid a gentle hand on Baelfire's shoulder. "I can take the burden from you, if you like." 

Baelfire shook his head quickly. "N-no, it's all right." 

"Then keep it close. You don't want to let him trick you," advised Gaston. 

Baelfire gulped visibly. "No, of course not. I know what he's like." 

_See what sentimentality buys you!_ hissed the darkness. _He knows nothing. All the darkness you held back, and for nothing. He still hates you. Take the dagger back. Make him listen._

Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth. His son _hadn't_ handed the dagger over to Gaston. 

_And if he decides to kill you himself?_

Then that was his right, thought Rumplestiltskin. If death was the price he paid for betraying his son and condemning him to suffer alone for centuries, so be it. If it could ease Baelfire's pain even a little, it was worth it. At least he would know that his father was no longer his jailer. If the Dark One's power was the only legacy Rumplestiltskin could leave his son, at least he wouldn't die in his father's arms as prophesied. 

_And a fine Dark One he would make..._

It wasn't what he wanted for his son, but Rumplestiltskin knew now he couldn't take the choice away from him. In time perhaps he could find peace. Baelfire was brave and good. Perhaps he could succeed better than his father at wielding the darkness to help more than he hurt. 

_Sentimental fool!_ scoffed the darkness. 

But Baelfire made no move against his father. 

It was Gaston who kept one hand on Baelfire and looked at Rumplestiltskin. "He'll do as we tell him like a good little Dark One. Won't you?" 

Gaston kept the threat out of his voice, but Rumplestiltskin understood. Baelfire had the dagger, but Gaston held Baelfire's life in his hands and could end it at any moment if Rumplestiltskin dared defy him. Baelfire had commanded _no magic_ and without magic, there was no way to stop Gaston in time. Baelfire would be dead before he even realized he was in danger. 

Rumplestiltskin had no choice but to obey. 

* * *

Deep inside the cavern complex was a large chamber, its stone teeth hacked away to make a smooth floor and ceiling, all except for a single pillar in the middle where a stalactite had met and fused with its matching stalagmite. A circle marked with divine glyphs and runes was painted on the floor, enclosing the pillar. Iron chains bound Rumplestiltskin to the pillar. The air was thick with divine magic. 

It was a temple, and he was the sacrifice on the altar. 

Gaston fancied himself a god. Captain Hook, in a turn Rumplestiltskin found improbable yet darkly amusing, had found a calling as Gaston's high priest. But the thought was a fleeting distraction in a haze of pain. 

The chains didn't wrap around him. They went _through_ him, piercing his body as easily as he had ripped hearts out with his bare hands. Now it was his heart that was under siege, shot through with enchanted iron that slowly drained away his magic. Magic that Gaston coveted, but not the limitations that came with it. Hence this slow sacrifice, designed to peel the darkness away from the soul and the dagger it was bound to. 

His son approved. Worse than any other torment was the knowledge that Baelfire chose this fate for his father. That he could watch Rumplestiltskin's suffering, weep for it, and yet— 

"I'm sorry, Papa. It's the only way to free you." Baelfire's voice was choked with sobs, but he was brave enough to explain. "He can take the darkness out. You have to let him do it. You said you would! We had a deal." 

A deal Rumplestiltskin had broken. He had to make it right. With the voice of the darkness silenced by the chain through his heart, his thoughts were clear on this point. He couldn't be a coward again. He managed to gasp brokenly, "I know. I know. I made... made... the wrong choice. This time..." 

"I only want my papa back," Baelfire whispered. His hand slipped under his jacket, and Rumplestiltskin could sense where his fingers brushed against the hilt of the Dark One dagger. "This will work. You won't die, I know you won't." 

Rumplestiltskin wished he could believe that. It would work, yes, the darkness leeched away drop by drop, but would there be anything of Rumplestiltskin left behind? It was possible that it was only magic that had kept his heart beating all these years, and once it was gone, there wouldn't be enough left of the mortal man to survive alone. That was what the pirate hoped for, no doubt. 

Hook had that much decency at least, not to gloat about the Crocodile's impending demise in front of Baelfire, but Rumplestiltskin could see the vindictive gleam in the pirate's eyes. 

Rumplestiltskin wouldn't fight him this time, either, or Gaston. _Call me a coward if you want_ , he thought in his moments of lucidity, _but you're not important._ He would accept this fate that his son had chosen for him. If he died, he would die as Bae's papa. 

Time blurred into endless hours to endure. 

He didn't know how long had passed before they found him. He didn't know how long they had been fighting before he noticed the magic exploding around the cavern. He heard his son shouting in fear. 

"Demons! You can't let them take Papa!" 

Rumplestiltskin forced his eyes open a crack. He saw griffons and Timers battering at the spells shielding Gaston's 'temple', Gaston throwing fireballs and lightning at the invaders, Hook and Bae brandishing swords at Gaston's side. _Bae!_ Rumplestiltskin reached futilely for his magic. He had to protect him, but he couldn't even move. With an immense effort, he forced air into his lungs, forced sound out of a throat hoarse from screaming, "Stop!" 

He took another burning breath. "Stop! Go away! Leave!" 

The battle paused. Everyone looked at him, as if amazed he could even speak. The two Timers started to argue, but he couldn't concentrate enough to understand what they were saying. 

He only knew that he had to make them understand. He forced out the words, gasping them one by one, punctuated by uncontrollable coughing fits. "Leave me. I promised Bae. Go! Go!" 

In the end, they must have left, because they were gone the next time he opened his eyes, and each time after that. He didn't know how long it had been. He only hoped it wouldn't be too much longer. Sometimes he thought he heard Bae crying, but he didn't have the strength to comfort him. 

One way or the other, it would be over. He hoped that they, they who had come for him, the ones whose names he couldn't remember, would tell her. Her, the one with the kind blue eyes, she knew about his son. Kind enough to care for him when he was gone. 

He hoped. 

* * *

The cage was just long enough for Belle to lie down in, and tall enough that she didn't hit her head on the ceiling. It was heavy enough to require two horses to pull the wagon. The air inside the metal was thick with remembered terror — someone must have died in the creation of this prison, a blood sacrifice to fuel the magic. Even her captors must have sensed something of it, both choosing to walk rather than ride in the wagon. 

The man, who introduced himself as "Nolan", walked ahead, leading the horses, while the woman — "Mary" — kept pace at the side of the wagon, turning a maddeningly cheerful smile on Belle. A smile as false as their names, thought Belle with a scowl. 

"Now don't look at me like that. Everything will work out all right," said Mary even as the wagon drove away from Valledor and into the unmappable interior of the Infinite Forest. "You'll be safe from the Dark One with us." 

"I was perfectly safe from the Dark One where I was." Belle's fists tightened around the bars. She tried to keep her teeth from rattling as whatever magic cleared the way for the wagon through the trees failed to provide a smooth road. "I only wish he had come to the festival with us. Then maybe he could have prevented me being kidnapped!" 

"We're not kidnapping you," explained Mary patiently. "We're taking you back to your true love." 

"What on earth or any other realm are you on about?" 

Mary's eyes turned sad. "Don't you remember him? What has that demon done to you? Did he make you drink a potion?" 

Belle stared. "Why would he do that?" 

"Or did he trick you into it? He did that to me, once, when I was in despair of D-, uh, _Nolan_ and I ever being able to be together," Mary confided. "I thought it was better to forget what I couldn't have, so I traded for a potion from the Dark One." 

Despite everything, Belle's curiosity was piqued. "A potion to forget... your true love? And you drank it?" 

Mary nodded. "And it worked. I forgot... Nolan. But I forgot myself, too, my true self. And I was wrong. I should never have given up hope." She beamed at Belle. "Luckily, he found me and stopped me from making a terrible mistake. True love's kiss was able to restore me." 

"Hmmph." Not that she begrudged them their true love, but Belle wished it came with the willingness to listen to other people now and then. " _I_ didn't drink any potions." 

"Whatever enchantment the Dark One put on you, true love's kiss will cure you," said Mary earnestly. 

"He didn't put any enchantment on me! Not like that!" Belle stomped her foot on the cold metal floor, but only managed to stub her toe. "Gah." 

"Not that you know about." 

"He doesn't do that." Belle sighed and sat down, rubbing at her toe. " _You_ made the choice to drink that forgetting potion. The Dark One didn't make you do it." 

"You can't trust him," warned Mary. "He's... _dark_. There's no telling what lengths he'll go to." 

Belle scoffed. "Well, _you're_ the ones using dark magic to trap me here." 

Mary looked offended. "Nonsense. Sir Gaston is a holy man whose powers come from the gods above." 

Belle's jaw dropped. "Gaston? You're taking me to _Gaston?_ Wait, Gaston has _magic?_ And you think—" 

"He told us everything, told us what the Dark One did to you. I know how frightened you must have been, but you mustn't lose hope. Everything will soon be put right," said Mary in a sickeningly optimistic tone. "He is your true love, after all." 

"No! No, no, no." Belle dropped her forehead into the iron bars. What the hell had he said to them? Well, that wasn't hard to guess. But how had he managed to persuade them to help him? _Dark magic_. It didn't matter if it was his own magic or magic he had bought from another. He was willing to murder for that power, and it was clearly effective. "You can't take me to Gaston!" 

Mary nodded knowingly. "I was like that, too, after the potion. But once you see him again, you'll start to remember." 

Belle lifted her head to glare at Mary. "Oh, I remember him. All too well." But seeing the way Mary was obviously forcing herself not to take offense at the words of a 'cursed' woman, Belle realized that _Mary_ couldn't still be under some dark spell, since she was here with her true love. They had certainly been affectionate enough and shared more than one kiss in her presence. "He is _not_ , never has been, and never will be my true love!" 

"The Dark One must have decided mere forgetting wasn't enough after I broke free of his potion, and enchanted you to hate your true love, to keep you from kissing." Mary patted the cage as if to reassure Belle. "But good always wins over evil in the end. You'll see." 

"Yes, abduction is so heroic," muttered Belle. She shifted, trying to find some comfortable way to sit in the jouncing wagon, but it was impossible. "I don't suppose you can lend me a cushion, or an extra cloak...?" 

For once, Mary actually listened. She found an extra blanket and thrust it through the bars. "Here you go." 

"Thanks." But other than that, the true love couple refused to believe a word she said. They had a blinkered view of the Dark One and of their own heroism. They were good and he was evil, and that was that. They knew of the deal he had made for a bride not yet born, and that was unforgiveable in their eyes. While Belle didn't think it had been heroic of Rumplestiltskin to extort that deal out of her parents, she knew how desperation could lead one to less than heroic acts. Now that she knew him better, after he had revealed his own desperation to her, she _did_ forgive him. And _he_ hadn't kidnapped her, despite his villainous reputation. 

It wasn't an argument she was willing to use. The Dark One couldn't afford to be seen as _desperate_. She knew how much Rumplestiltskin hated to reveal any weakness and couldn't betray him that way, especially not to people who could make deals with someone even while condemning them as 'evil'. She would just have to save her strength and figure out a way to defeat Gaston once he came within reach. He would have to, she thought grimly, if he still wanted the same thing he had wanted before. 


	23. Chapter 23

"You honestly think you're helping me?" Belle gave up on convincing her captors and pretended to be persuaded by their arguments. "You're sure the Dark One put some kind of curse on me?" 

"What else could it be?" Mary shook her head. "He did something to the Evil Queen, you know. She used to be a good woman, but after she became the Dark One's student, she changed." Mary shuddered visibly. "Now she's as evil as he is." 

Belle frowned, remembering that her mother had said much the same. Memories of the older Rumplestiltskin from the other timeline flashed through Belle's mind, tinged with a sense of familiarity and conflicting emotions associated with the Evil Queen, and Belle knew he did have a hand in what Regina had become. No wonder Regina had treated Belle with such animosity. "Well, I'll grant you she isn't the most pleasant person to meet. You know her, then?" 

"I... ah, well, everyone knows the Evil Queen," said Mary feebly. 

"Of course." Belle bit her tongue before she could call Mary out on her obvious evasion. She _did_ know Regina, know her personally. But how? Who was she? She sighed, putting the question aside for now. "I suppose you're right." 

As far as captivity went, she ranked this above Regina's dank dungeon cell and below the griffon king's gilded cage in the land above the clouds. She made the best of it until the wagon finally emerged from the Infinite Forest and made its way to a road. It was broad daylight. Nolan and Mary were bold, she had to give them that. But that left her a chance. As the wagon passed through the main street of a village, Belle stood up and shouted at the top of her lungs. 

"Hey! Help!" She tried to catch the eye of a woman carrying a basket of vegetables and thrust her arm out between the bars towards her. "Please! I'm being kidnapped! Help me and I promise you'll be rewarded. I have gold!" 

But no one took any notice of her except her captors. 

Nolan looked back over his shoulder to smile ruefully at Belle. "I'm afraid it's no good shouting. There's a spell on the wagon." 

Belle slumped back. She had known that, but had hoped... 

Mary looked disappointed in Belle's continued resistance but didn't say anything. 

The sun had dipped low enough to be hidden behind trees and houses by the time they reached the gates of Sweetport. Belle looked at the familiar city walls, remembering her first visit. As the wagon waited in the queue to be checked by the guards, Belle's eye was caught by the various 'wanted' papers nailed to a board by the gates — one in particular. The likeness wasn't particularly good, and the hair was arranged differently, but Belle was sure she had guessed right. 

_Snow White! She's Snow White._ Belle choked back the exclamation before she alerted the woman in question. She glanced at the man she had called her true love — he must be Prince James, King George's son. Both of them had bounties on their heads — a fact that escaped the bored guards, who waved the wagon through after a cursory inspection. The kingdom was at peace, and there was no reason to stop a harmless traveling show. Either that, or the outlaw couple's concealment magic was too effective. 

Brazen as ever, they led the wagon into the courtyard of an inn. While her captors enjoyed the comforts of a private room and the horses were taken to the stable, Belle was left with a chunk of bread, a mug of ale, and a chamber pot. Snow White and James had draped a cloth over her cage against the threat of rain — the summer-hot air was heavy with moisture, the rumble of thunder creeping ever closer. 

Belle pulled the curtain aside and peeked up to find that the sky had darkened precipitously. Then it started raining, heavy drops that turned into a downpour, punctuated by flashes of light and deafening cracks of thunder. But it was over by the time she had finished off her bread, leaving behind a cooler evening and massive puddles of water. 

Unlike the previous nights of her captivity, she was alone and unguarded in the cage. The earlier demonstration of Belle's inability to break through the concealment spell must have lulled them into complacency. Belle could breathe freely at last... and hope that her captors were wrong to think her helpless. 

She gripped her crystal pendant, trying to find the connection that had seemed so clear that day after they had fallen from the land above the clouds. She whispered his name once, twice, three times. "Rumplestiltskin..." 

It was as if the syllables had lost all meaning. When Belle tried touching the crystal to the iron bars, her hand went numb to the elbow and she fell back with a gasp. She could feel it then, the magic specifically designed to nullify the Dark One's name, to sever all connection to him and his magic. It was the danger of tying himself to his name — it could be used to keep him out as well as to summon him. 

Belle let go of the crystal and made an inventory of everything else she had on hand. The only thing remotely magical was the enchanted gourd that Aurora had given her. While it made her life slightly easier, more water wasn't going to help her escape. Enough had fallen on the cage to prove that much. Then she remembered the little wooden box in her pocket. Jefferson's gift! She took out the golden feather to study it more closely, trying to identify the nature of its magic. Old, ancient, yes. Looking at it side by side with the enchanted gourd, she wasn't sure which was older. Their magics even had a similar feel. A different 'signature', meaning a different maker, but still... 

She closed her eyes, clasped both hands around the feather, and concentrated. The gold warmed to her touch, then grew hot. Light flared against her eyelids. She opened her eyes. The feather blazed like a piece of lightning caught in her fingers. 

Then she heard footsteps splashing through the puddles in the courtyard. Startled, Belle automatically slipped the feather back into her pocket, the light blinking out when her concentration broke. She moved to pull the soggy drapery to one side to see who was there. A tall figure in a wide-brimmed hat and a cloak stood in the courtyard just past the gatehouse, facing her direction. She called out without much hope, "Hey! Hey, can you hear me? Please, I need help!" 

To her shock, the figure started walking towards her, a lantern hanging from his hand. As he approached, Belle recognized his face. It was the senior apprentice (now a journeyman) in the Wingfoot Guild who had witnessed her induction into the guild five years ago, and whom she had run into sporadically whenever she had passed through Sweetport. "Edvard!" 

Edvard looked just as shocked to see her, though he covered it with an easy grin. "Lacey. Fancy meeting you here. Don't you have a wedding to go to?" 

"Oh." Belle looked down sheepishly. "You know about that, then." 

"Rumors have been flying. We put two and two together." Edvard chuckled. "Master Johann always said you'd bring trouble to the guild." 

"I'm not bringing trouble, trouble brought me! Please, I need your help." 

"What's going on? Why are you in a cage?" 

Belle explained as best she could. 

Edvard nodded, his face serious. "You know, it's just as well they've been officially cast out, or we'd have a real diplomatic nightmare on our hands." 

Belle didn't have to ask what he meant by 'we'. The Wingfoot Guild served as scribes and messengers, but had a third, covert role: spies. As a foreigner of questionable loyalties, Lacey had been kept away from that side of the guild, but she had heard enough chatter to guess the truth in hindsight. After what Lizzy had told her about the intelligence-gathering duties of the Beggars Clan, Belle had recognized the same work done by the Wingfoot Guild. She suspected that Master Johann was in fact the Maritime Kingdom's spymaster. 

"Well, if you let me out, you'll be in good graces with Schlaraffenland, won't you?" 

Edvard tested the lock on the cage door. It rattled but didn't open, and he got nowhere even after he pulled out his lockpicking kit and fiddled with the lock. "Hmm. Wait here." 

Belle rolled her eyes at his back, unamused. 

He returned with a crowbar, but no amount of leverage was enough for him to pry the bars apart or break the lock. 

Belle sighed. "There's a spell on it." 

"Yes, I could tell." Edvard passed the crowbar to her. "Well, they'll have to let you out sometime, right? Bash them over the head when they open the door and make your escape then." 

"That sounds rather violent," grumbled Belle, but she accepted the crowbar. Just as she was about to ask Edvard to summon Rumplestiltskin on her behalf, another question came out instead. "Say, how did you even find me? There _is_ a spell on the cage, and last time I tried shouting at the top of my lungs in the middle of a village, and no one even blinked." 

Edvard gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean? I looked at the cart, and there you were." 

"So, what were you doing here anyway? You have business at the inn?" 

"No, I was just passing by. Saw something glowing, came in to check it out, but it was gone. Must have been lightning, I guess." Edvard shrugged. "And then you called out, so..." 

Belle nodded. She lowered her voice. "It wasn't lightning. It was this." She reached into her pocket and retrieved the golden feather. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?" 

Edvard's eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. "That's... is that real?" 

"Yes, I think so," said Belle. Jefferson had made a point of it. "Why? What does it mean?" 

Edvard blinked. He said slowly, sounding apologetic, "Oh. Right. Ah, I can't say. It's one of the higher mysteries. You have to be initiated into the inner circle, and, uh..." 

Secrets. Belle sighed. "Never mind. I understand. I'm an outlander." 

Edvard nodded. "But if Master Johann knows you have that, he'll definitely help you in any way he can." 

"That's a dangerous thing to promise," noted Belle. She pocketed the feather again and looked around. "Mostly, I just want to be let out of this cage." 

"He may have a way." Then Edvard glanced at the main building of the inn. "What about them that took you? Just give us the nod, and we'll take care of it..." He drew his finger across his throat in illustration. 

"No, no!" Belle said hastily. "I don't want them _dead_." 

"We can shop them to the Evil Queen," was Edvard's next offer. "There's a nice price on their heads." 

Belle shuddered, remembering her own encounters with Regina. "No, I wouldn't do that to anyone. Besides, you can't trust that woman to let you walk away with the reward. Really, I just need them to mind their own business and not listen to idiots like... well." 

Edvard chuckled. "How about we send them off with a healthy scare, make sure they're in no position to bother you again?" 

Belle smiled. "That sounds perfect." 

"Right. I'll talk to Master Johann." Edvard winked at Belle. "Wait here..." 

"That wasn't funny the first time!" Belle shouted at his retreating back. He didn't even slow, and of course, no one else at the inn took any notice of her at all. Belle grumbled and curled up as comfortably as she could manage on the blanket Snow White had given her. Eventually, she dozed off. 

It must have been close to midnight when Belle was startled awake by a ruckus at the inn. A fight, by the sound of it. She thought she heard her captors shouting mixed in with strange voices and the clash of steel. Then she heard what must have been at least a dozen sets of feet running away from the inn. 

Edvard was the first to find Belle afterwards, after a few times circling the courtyard, casting around uncertainly with the lantern. "Oh, there you are. I couldn't see you at first." 

"Yes, that's the spell." 

"Right, right, I know." Edvard glanced over his shoulder. "Master Johann should be here any moment. So, your 'friends' think King George's goons caught up to them. They'll get themselves good and lost in the Infinite Forest and won't be getting unlost anytime soon." 

"Ha, impressive," said Belle. "So is combat training one of those 'higher mysteries' you mentioned before?" 

Edvard smirked. "Not exactly. But we know people. I told you, we have connections with the assassins guild." 

Belle still wasn't sure if he was joking or serious, but decided it was one of those things better left ambiguous. Master Johann hadn't said a word about it, and Belle didn't ask him now. 

Master Johann emerged from the inn, which had settled back into its customary late-night quiet, and crossed the courtyard to the cage. "Lacey." 

"Master Johann." 

Johann studied her critically. "Edvard had a most interesting tale for me tonight. I came to see for myself, if you would permit?" 

"Of course." Belle showed him the golden feather. 

After a long silence, Johann said softly, "That... is indeed the real thing. May I ask where you acquired it?" 

"Someone gave it to me." Belle met his eyes. How far could she trust him? She was technically still sworn to the guild and owed him honesty. But would he listen? Or would he, like Snow White and her prince, decide she needed to be 'saved' from the Dark One? But Jefferson hadn't told her _not_ to tell anyone. He had given it to her for her birthday and put no conditions on the gift. "At the Dark Castle, for my birthday." 

"Who?" breathed Johann. "Who gave it to you?" 

"A realm jumper," said Belle. And judging by the easy banter he shared with Rumplestiltskin— "A friend of the Dark One, I think." 

Johann's face twitched in surprise before his expression smoothed itself. He glanced at Edvard. "The Absent God is allied with the Dark One? Then so must we be, eh, my boy?" 

"I couldn't say, sir." 

Johann chuckled. "Perhaps that explains some of the rumors." Before Belle could ask _what rumors?_ , he nodded to her. "You can let your betrothed know that the Maritime Kingdom offers... cooperation. And as a token of our good will..." He reached into a pocket of his robe and withdrew what looked like a severed human hand. 

"It's a mandrake root," muttered Edvard at Belle's alarmed look. 

"A hand of glory," corrected Johann. "Carved according to true tradition, and not one of those necromantic perversions of vulgar legend." He narrowed his eyes and muttered an incantation. The 'fingers' of the 'hand' burst into flame, shooting off little orange sparks. "It has a power to open any door." 

He touched the fingers to the lock. There was a click, then the door swung open. The 'hand of glory' vanished in a puff of smoke. 

"I didn't know you were a sorcerer," Belle babbled in a rush of gratitude, barely restraining herself from jumping out and hugging the old man. "Thank you, Master Johann!" 

Johann smiled faintly, stepping back with a bow. "The least we could do..." 

"No, no, it means everything. I—" Belle stumbled as she stepped out of the cage, pain stabbing suddenly through her heart. 

"Lacey!" Edvard caught her before she fell off the wagon and helped her to the ground. 

"It's nothing. My leg's asleep." Belle clung to the side of the wagon, waving off their concern. One hand flew to the crystal pendant. _Rumplestiltskin._ It was _his_ pain she was sensing through the crystal. Something was wrong. She didn't dare say anything. What if Johann and Edvard were lying? What if they were his enemies? She forced a smile. "I'm fine, thanks to you." 

"If there's any other aid we may render..." offered Master Johann. 

Belle shook her head. "Well, this trip into Sweetport wasn't exactly planned. My family will be worrying about me." 

"You want us to send word to them?" asked Edvard. 

"It's all right. I'll summon the Dark One." As she had guessed, even Johann looked nervous at that idea. She glanced up at the sky. "What time is it? I shouldn't keep you from your rest any longer..." 

Master Johann saw right through her. "It's all right. Keep your secrets, princess. I take no offense." 

"He never does," chuckled Edvard. "Sitting where he sits and—" 

Johann shot the journeyman a quelling glance. "You've told me enough, Lacey. We know where we must stand for the final battle." 

"Wait. 'Final battle'?" Belle asked in vain. 

Edvard shrugged and handed her his lantern. This time it was he and Johann who were in a hurry to leave before too many questions could be asked or answered. She wasn't even sure that they hadn't just made it up as a bit of misinformation to cover up their own secrets. 

It didn't matter. She had more important things to worry about. She gripped the crystal pendant and tried once again to call Rumplestiltskin. Tried and failed. She wasn't locked behind a spell this time. Either he didn't want to come to her... or he _couldn't_. Feeling sick to her stomach with dread, she suspected she knew which it was. If _she_ had been trapped, then... 

* * *

"Gaston's holding him prisoner?" Belle stared at Otulissa, aghast. When she hadn't been able to reach Rumplestiltskin, Belle had sent out a more general call for help, and the griffon turned out to be the only one within reach. 

_We were afraid he had you, too!_ Otulissa explained how they had been searching for her in the past few days. 

"He did, in a way. He sent people to abduct me, and I think he made this cage." Belle showed it to Otulissa. "He must have acquired magic from somewhere, or someone, I don't know..." 

_It was the amulet. Remember? The one the archbishop gave him. The power went into his blood._

"Wonderful. But he's not the only one with magic, right? If we all work together, we can defeat Gaston and save Rumplestiltskin... what?" Belle broke off her planning at Otulissa's uncomfortable look. 

_As to that. Um. We can't..._

"What? Why not?" Belle demanded. "We can't just abandon him there!" 

_He told us to leave. And also..._

"It is his third trial." Lumiere stepped out of the shadow of the gatehouse into the lantern light. "At first we thought the same as you. Many in Schlaraffenland were ready to raise arms against this Gaston for to teach him his wrong." 

_But the High Archon said no._

"But Gaston..." Belle shuddered. To be in Gaston's power was something she still sometimes had nightmares about. 

_Gaston has the Dark One's son. A silly human boy,_ growled Otulissa in a tone that implied no griffon would be silly enough to fall into Gaston's hands. 

"If he has other loyalties, then that is something Schlaraffenland has a need to know," said Lumiere, his eyes troubled though his voice was calm. "The Dark One dug himself this hole. He has obligations to his son and to the land. Fail one or fail the other, that is the test given to him." 

"I don't care," said Belle after a moment's consideration. He was a _person_ who clearly needed help, and that was more important than some arbitrary test. "If you won't do it, I will. I'm not a citizen of Schlaraffenland, at least not yet." 

Lumiere sighed. Finally he admitted, "It is allowed. For you. You have passed your three trials, which gives you a bride's right to stand by him. But he would not thank us for placing you in danger." 

"But if it's one of the trials, that means it's possible to pass it. That's also one of the rules." Belle tried to feel confident. Schlaraffenland wouldn't want its most powerful protector dead. Why would the High Archon risk losing him when any replacement could well be worse? 

"Yes. But possible is not the same as probable, as Cogsworth would tell you." 

"Well, then." Belle took a deep breath and strengthened her resolve. "More probable with help than without." 

_It's still dangerous!_ Otulissa protested. 

"She is right. You have not yet the full training in magic." 

"Neither has Gaston." At least, she hoped not. 

"Yet he is not so ignorant as he was. We faced him before with four against one and still he was strong enough to fight us all," Lumiere told her. "He has the spirit of a killer." 

"So does the Darkness," argued Belle. "I don't have to face Gaston directly if I can sneak in quietly and free Rumplestiltskin first." 

_How? That Gaston has spells up all over against intruders._

"There's that spell you used to hide us when we left Avonlea. Help me find some blackthorn..." 

"It will not suffice for to pass you through the protective wards," warned Lumiere. 

"Well, then I'll... I'll..." Belle looked around for inspiration. And found it in the very cage that had trapped her. "Gaston's cage! The concealment on it is amazingly powerful. And he planned to have them bring me to him inside it, so it has to be able to get through his spells. We can modify the enchantment on it so I can use it myself." 

Easier said than done, but between the three of them, they eventually managed it. Belle was left with a portable version of Gaston's spell, focused on the lock from the cage door. Lumiere drove the wagon and the remains of the spell away into the Infinite Forest to throw Gaston off the scent in case he used any tracking magic on them. Otulissa and Belle took to the air. 

Belle shifted back to human form under cover of a copse of trees near a coastal village. 

_Hagen's Cove,_ Otulissa told her. _This is as close as I can go without stepping into a spell. Gaston is hiding in the caves in the cliffs._

"Thank you," Belle whispered. 

_You should sleep. Your magic doesn't work as well when you're tired._

"I know." Belle peered through the trees. It was still day, and a few people were visible in the distance. "I'll rest until full dark. That way even if the spell fails, people won't see me. And if Gaston is asleep, even better." 

Otulissa's tail twitched. _Yes, tear out his throat and put a beak through his eye._

"Um. I'll see what I can do." Belle smiled weakly at Otulissa. 

_I wish I could stay. But if they catch me out, the High Archon could say the Dark One forfeited his trial, and they'd kill me for messing it up._

"I know. It's all right." 

_Be careful._ Otulissa rubbed her beak against Belle's hand, the griffon's way of wishing her luck. Then she was gone and Belle was alone again. 

* * *

It soon became clear that Hagen's Cove was a nest of smugglers, and the caves Gaston had taken over had been long employed as their base of operations. Gaston had also taken over the smugglers themselves. Belle slipped past the two posted as sentries at the mouth of the caves, the concealment spell working as intended. Because it was held in the lock and thus didn't need her active concentration, Belle was able to maintain another spell, allowing her to see auras more clearly — meaning both that she wouldn't need a light source and that magic would be visible to her. 

She came in late enough that everyone except the sentries were asleep. She followed the tug of her crystal pendant to the underground chamber where the Dark One was being held. At first all she saw was the web of dark magic crawling over his limp body. Then she saw how the chains ran through him, saw the life bleeding out of him, heard his labored breathing, and she was reminded horribly of Prometheus's suffering. 

"Rumplestiltskin!" 


End file.
